Grassroots Heroes for Hire
by ChilleTidUniverse
Summary: Things have taken a poor turn for Brienne et al., but across the fields of Faerun, another band is just getting into the swing of this adventurer business. Follow the rising story of Robyn and her band of merry humanoids as they work to make a name for themselves.
1. Prologue - Grassroots Heroes for Hire

The mayor looked up from the writ. "And you are the subject of this voucher?" He glanced from the half-elf with her supple cloak and curious longbow slung across her back at the head of the group to its other members; a young woman with twigs in her hair, armor that seemed too big, and an assortment of large weapons; a stocky dwarf with a dour expression and an axe that glowed with unnatural light; a youth with chestnut-brown skin, barely more than a boy, holding a large book that looked like it belonged in a museum, in a robe that he might have stolen from someone with fuller shoulders; a foppy young man with a bored look and impeccable eyeliner, carrying a shield and some foreign fetish; a terrifying young tiefling whose snow-white robes and holy symbol were completely at odds with her horns and ashen skin; and most startling of all, a damned half-orc (a half-orc, in his town!) with a wide hat, salt-stained overcoat, and two sharp blades swinging from her hips. This last one stood in the corner, leaning against the wall, as if she at least had the courtesy to recognize exactly how poor in taste this meeting was.

Robyn cleared her throat and swept her eyes over her little band of misfits, glaring at Charlot to straighten up and at Nula to join the rest of the party. "Yes, your mayor-ly-ness. The duke of Hartfordshire was quite satisfied with our assistance rescuing his daughter. We even saved most of her caravan, as well. Well, most of them who weren't killed by the time we found them, that is."

"Indeed." The mayor's eyes lowered to the parchment again. Everything certainly appeared to be in place, at the very least. He had never met this duke, but he knew from several books in his meager library that Hartfordshire was indeed a neighboring town to the east of his own, as much as "neighboring" could be used to describe any locations in these lands. Still - he glanced back up at the assortment before him - this lot hardly had the look of heroes. Some of them looked to be barely old enough to be on their own! He couldn't begin to guess at the half-orc's or dwarf's ages, but the rest looked like they should be helping out on their parents' farms right now. The only people who stood with any sort of authority were their half-elf leader, who at least seemed old enough to marry, and the strange boy with the dark symbol, who reminded the mayor of the pouty prince who had rolled through the town when he himself was just a boy. This young man exuded that same air of boredom, as if the surrounding world existed to entertain him and it was doing quite a poor job of it. That prince had been quite a pest, from what the mayor recalled.

It was the odd girl wearing a tree on her head that stepped forward, smoothly admitting, "We know we don't look like much, sir, but we've heard from your citizens that there have been other adventurers sent after your problem, to no avail. Surely it couldn't hurt to send a few more?" The mayor found himself nodding to Isolde's suggestion. _His_ citizens, he liked the sound of that. What could it hurt, indeed?

The mayor nodded more deliberately. "Very well, I suppose the voucher says what it says, and we'd be happy to have your assistance. The mine is a couple hours' travel to the south." He made to return to the papers scattered about his desk, but a slim hand quickly poked into his line of sight.

Robyn cleared her throat again. "There's just the matter of payment…"

The band traveled down the southern road with a spring in their step. The mayor had not been keen on paying half upfront, and Nula had needed to lean over his pretty wooden desk and begin cleaning her nails with her dagger before he would reconsider and offer them twenty-five percent before and the rest when they returned with proof the mines had been cleared. Twenty-five percent! Robyn could almost sing. They were certainly on their way; before long, their reputation would precede them up and down the Sword Coast, and perhaps they would even start being recognized in the cities they visited!

Not that Robyn would allow them to venture into a city quite yet; Nula's bar-fueled argument in their last city had been quite eventful, and Charlot had warned the group that the guards were sure to spread word of the temperamental half-orc pirate-ess and her strange companions to every city on the continent. Robyn felt certain he had been joking, but was unwilling to test it, not before the gang had worked up a level of professionalism that would help to offset the looks of confusion and distrust that greeted them wherever they went.

And this sleepy little hamlet with its classic woes of kobold infested mines were a perfect step along that path. Robyn hummed a little tune as they marched, her left hand upon the flank of their trusty pony. She had taken to calling him Eye-gak, after she overheard Oskar murmuring it to the beast in a town months back. It was a quirky sort of name, but she felt it fit well with what the team had going on. Across Eye-gak's saddle was a handy portable chest, nothing too ostentatious, just a locked box for them to store their meager riches and the documents they managed to weasel out of their previous employers, vouching for their reliability to their future hopefuls.

Ahead of her, Charlot and Uzza were arguing again. For clerics of the grave and life domains, Robyn supposed she should be happy their discussions were rarely confrontational. At the moment, however, Charlot was trying to convince Uzza that he could render her more palatable in the loftier company they would surely find themselves in before long.

"I'm not saying that tieflings are unheard of in the proper ranks of society, dear, I'm simply saying that you present an odd blend of ideas, and it can be better to go along with what people expect of you than force them to face their own bigotry."

Uzza bristled as she turned to the boy. "I'm not interested in how your nobles see me, Charlot. I spent my childhood begging for scraps. I won't demean myself again, not to be subjected to the worldviews of those who think themselves above me. Especially not to appease the normalcy of people with more gold than I've ever seen!"

Charlot raised his hands in defense. "Not everyone with wealth is the enemy, Uzza." He smiled wide and wrapped an arm around her. "Fear not, Charlot will guide you through the scary halls of the rich. Perhaps just a light foundation to even out your skin tone, maybe a nice flowery headband to cover those horns…" Uzza groaned, but Robyn saw her mouth quirk in a smile.

Behind her, Robyn heard Idu going on about his many misadventures as a youth on the streets of Amn (truth be told, Robyn felt Idu still qualified as a youth, but she would never say as much to his face). As always, Oskar clung to every word from the younger boy; Oskar had spent most of his life in the mines of his home, and often found the workings of "above-ground" civilization fascinating. Idu clearly picked up on this an embellished from time to time. Robyn suspected he had run out of factual stories early on, but she had to admit the boy had imagination. As he described a flight from a particularly nasty street-guard, using nothing but the friendship of a wild monkey, his free arm swept in wild arcs. Idu always clutched that fancy book close to his chest, as if he were afraid his wonderful life of traveling would disappear if he let it slip for a single moment. Robyn could sympathize; she oftentimes had to remind herself that all this was real, and that she had indeed managed to bring together such an amazing group with whom to spend her days.

Beside Oskar, Isolde nodded along to the story, gasping at all the right moments and asking the questions Idu was clearly fishing for. Isolde had explained to Robyn when she first joined the gang that they were a lovely example of the balance the paladin wished to instill in the world around her; Robyn sometimes questioned the balance of the team, but was thankful for the comparison. The girl's hint of a smile and perpetual far-gazing eyes lead many to assume she was none too bright, but Isolde always managed to ask precisely the right question in the most flattering tone to further the party's interests. She had been quite instrumental in obtaining several of their recent jobs.

As Idu reached the end of his story (with a flourish had Oskar nodding and Isolde politely clapping) Nula snorted and sauntered over to the three, sliding a blade along a whetstone as she grumbled, "Nice story, Books, must'a been real hard running from a fat old man. Ever run… from a kraken?" Idu's eyes brightened visibly. If Oskar enjoyed Idu's tales, Idu lived for the yarns the half-orc would spin. "There I was, lookout in the middle o' the night, naught but a sliver of moon to light the frosty waters o' the Sword Coast. The crew lay a'bed below decks, a senile ol' lubber tending the wheel, when I hear a deep rumblin', like a thousand bellies cryin' for gruel…"

Robyn chuckled as she listened. She knew Nula was not much older than her companions, but her size and confidence made that easy to forget. Like Idu, Robyn suspected that many of Nula's tales were far from the truth, but it was much harder to pick fact from fiction with the half-orc.

Nula was just getting to the part where a writhing tentacle, cut from the monster, knocks the captain overboard when Charlot stopped in his tracks, head tilted to the side. It took a moment for the storytellers to notice, and then they slowed to a stop, as well. "Hear that?" the boy asked, eyes scanning the skies above them. Robyn strained her ears a moment, and was about to ask "What?" when Isolde pointed to the east. As Robyn followed her finger and saw a cluster of specks growing larger, she heard an unearthly melody fill the trees around them.

"Harpies," Nula growled, tucking her whetstone into her belt and drawing her other sword. "Looks like a small group, three, four."

Robyn nodded, deftly sliding her longbow from her shoulder and reaching for an arrow. "Ready yourselves," she called, nocking and drawing the arrow. The party fell into position easily, with a familiarity that would have had Robyn smiling under other circumstances. Uzza, Isolde, and Oskar gathered between the others and the approaching shapes, donning shields and reaching for weapons. Oskar flexed his hand, and his trusty battleaxe winked from its holster to his grip.

Charlot and Idu stepped up beside Robyn, with Nula stalking the area around three, leaving herself plenty of room for what she referred to as her "dance o' death". Charlot tossed back his hair and fingered his dark talisman, cold power seeping from his fingers as he breathed words of power. Idu flipped open his spellbook deftly, long fingers easily finding the proper worn pages, by earmark or familiar wear, and he held two or three fingers in different places in the book, keeping his place should he need certain spells. Satisfied, the young boy nodded and turned his eyes to the approaching beasts, an excited curiosity tinged with cautious fear twinking there.

Robyn slowed her breathing as the harpies gained definition. Before long, they had entered the range of her longbow, and with a practiced focus the half-elf let fly her first arrow. Before it had struck its target Robyn had fitted another into the nock, and as she pulled the string back to the corner of her mouth, she saw with satisfaction that one of the three shapes had fallen significantly below its friends. She aimed at the lower harpy and fired again, and by the time she had fitted her third arrow, the harpies had arrived.

As they swooped down past the trees, their tempting melody reached a crescendo, and Robyn found herself screwing her fingers into her ears. A moment passed, and then she looked around to see the harpies landing among the group. She noted that Oskar and Nula were the only people who appeared to be affected by the siren's song of the harpies, and the rest of her band were already reacting.

Uzza gripped her holy symbol and gestured at herself, Oskar, and Nula, chanting in a strange tongue until a faint aura began to glow around the three. Oskar and Nula both grunted a moment later, shaking their heads and jumping upon the nearest harpy.

Isolde's twig-crown glowed a verdant green, and she struck at the harpy approaching her, thick vines erupting from the ground at the beast's claws to grip her tightly. Idu took this as a cue, and pointed ominously at the trapped harpy, summoning a skeletal claw that gently passed through the beast's ribcage, causing part of the melody to turn to shrieks of pain.

Nula directed her twirling blades at the harpy that had snared her attention. With a cry of "Avast, ye!" the half-orc darted around the harpy, slicing this way and that before pulling away with a grin, deftly avoiding a slicing talon as she stepped outside the harpy's range. Charlot took a breath and held his hand out at the harpy, pantomiming swinging something large, and a second later a deep, ominous DOOM DOOM DOOM filled the air around the wounded harpy. The bell's tolling almost drowned out the creature's death wail, and Nula cried out with a loud laugh as the harpy fell still.

Robyn turned her attention to the last harpy, sliding her arm through the longbow while in the same motion she pulled the whip from her belt. She whistled, a piercing sound that had the intended effect of the harpy swiveling its head on an owl-like neck to the half-elf. Robyn smirked and flicked the whip, slashing the side of the harpy's wing and causing the whip to CRACK as it struck. The beast's eyes widened at the sound, and Oskar took the opportunity to flourish his glowing battleaxe at the startled harpy, sending a flaming bolt at it to crash between its wings. He then yelled a dwarvish battle cry and darted toward the harpy, swinging his blade down between its shoulder blades and sending it to the ground.

That left one harpy, tangled in vines, with Isolde and Uzza standing on either side of it. Isolde continued to strike from afar with her glaive, her serene face set in grim determination. Uzza closed her eyes and called out, lifting her holy symbol skyward. In response, a pillar of holy flame fell from the heavens, engulfing the screeching harpy and the vines that bound it. As the group gathered around, the charred harpy body crumbled to ash.

Robyn nodded at the group, watching as grins spread across their faces. "Good job, team. Uzza, would you mind seeing to Oskar and Nula? I think the harpies got a few scratches in. Isolde, nice work with the vines. Idu and Charlot, try focusing on the same target next time. But excellent work, everyone!" The party began chatting and laughing, and Robyn went to recover trusty Eye-gak, who had begun grazing at the roots of a nearby tree. She glanced at the sun's position and looked to the south, seeing the mountains rising there. Still an hour or so to go; still plenty of time. She nodded to herself and began to shepherd the excited comrades, urging them to continue their march.

The group quietly made their way down the dark corridors of the mine. Their talk had diminished as they stepped into the mouth of the cave system, their voices echoing along the walls before Robyn hushed them. Now, they marched down the main passage, torches scattered among the group, while Uzza kept a sharp eye out ahead. Robyn held her longbow aloft as they walked, elegant silver runes flickering across the arms in the near-darkness of the mine. They had been traveling down the mines for less than an hour when Uzza stalked back to them, her snowy robes luminescent in the torchlight.

"Kobolds," she hissed when she got closer. "Off to the left, a hundred feet further." Robyn motioned for the group to prepare themselves. A minute later, they had doused their torches and gripped arms, walking as quietly as they could manage with Oskar and Uzza leading the way. A minute later, a series of squeezed palms indicated they were approaching the entrance that Uzza had spied, and the blinded members of the party saw a faint glow up ahead. They waited outside the branched passage, barely able to see each others' faces, until Robyn whispered, "Now!"

All at once, Oskar and Charlot jumped into the opening, raising their hands as blips of light sparked into life around the cavernous room. Idu stepped out from behind them and took quick assessment of the situation, then gripped a small bag from his cloak and muttered a few words. A miniature sun burst into existence among the thickest concentration of kobolds, who screeched and scrabbled at the rocky ground to pull themselves away. Idu swept his hand in front of him, and the burning sphere began to ominously cross the room, incinerating the scaly hides it collided with.

Now fully able to see, the rest of the party darted into the room, whip, glaive, and swords eager for purchase as the frenzied kobolds attempted to avoid the flaming death-ball and the new enemies. A group of braver kobolds began to swarm the party, some waving their arms and gibbering while the rest darted in and out, poking with makeshift weaponry.

Isolde kept the kobolds at bay with her glaive, waving it back and forth as they tried to approach her, and soon the frustrated kobolds turned to the half-orc who was laughing as her blades left crimson afterimages in the magical light. Robyn used her whip to discourage the kobolds who were attempting to flank the party, forcing them to choose between approaching the heavily armored frontline or the slow advance of Idu's flaming sphere.

The slaughter lasted barely a minute, and as the sounds of dying kobolds quieted, Uzza saw a flicker of movement across the room. A small cluster of kobolds were fidgeting with a pile of rocks in a corner before one of them seemingly disappeared. Uzza called out to the group and raised her holy symbol, causing an illuminated gout of flame to crash down on the spot of the remaining kobolds. One fell over, dying noisily, while the other yelped and dove headfirst into the rocks, scorched backside trailing smoke. The rushed escape dislodged the larger rocks, and part of the wall sunk in on itself, revealing a tight passage out of the room.

The group turned to Nula, who grunted, "Figures," as she removed her hat and rolled it carefully. "Alright, let's follow the scallywags."

Luckily for the half-orc, the secret tunnel widened to more spacious dimensions several feet in. The kobold had scurried on ahead, and Robyn reminded everyone as they walked on in the dim light of a weakened light spell that they should expect a fight when they reached the end of the passage.

When the tunnel began to widen enough for them to adjust their order, Oskar took the lead. There was a sharp turn, and then the party found itself face to face with a group of orc warriors. Oskar raised his shield and chanted for a moment, a golden aegis illuminating the air around him as arrows flew through the air. Most were deflected, and Uzza was quick to press her hands to the resulting wounds and murmur words of healing. By that time, Nula and Isolde had jumped out of the tunnel and rushed the orcs.

Idu and Charlot stuck behind Oskar, nodding to each other and directing their spells at the furthest orc archer. Robyn stepped to the side and steadied her longbow, focusing on its innate power as she fitted her arrow. Silvery runes flowed across the surface of the bow and into the arrow, lighting it with traces of moonbeams. The shining arrow flew across the chamber to the orcs, a brilliant afterimage tracing its path. As battle was joined, a rumbling came from another entrance to the room, and Charlot's head snapped around, calling out, "Undead!" seconds before a mangled group of dead kobolds shambled into view. Some were missing limbs, others had crushed skulls, but all moved steadily toward the party. At their rear, a larger orc strode, eyes aglow with dark power, hands reaching out to the zombified minions.

Charlot and Uzza caught each other's eyes and both ran to the approaching horde, Charlot lifting his dark talisman while Uzza clutched her holy symbol. Both began a similar chant with vastly different inflections, and as one their voices rose in volume. The combination of holy and unholy power swept forward over the marching corpses, and a majority of the bodies shuddered and began to fall back, mouths vocalizing frightened grunts if they worked at all. The orcish shaman growled with displeasure, cuffing one of her turned minions across its collapsed face as it ran by, sending it crumpling to the floor. The shaman turned to the clerics and narrowed her eyes, lifting a gnarled finger to the tiefling. As Uzza's back arched in pain, an arrow went soaring past the two and embedded itself squarely in the shaman's chest. Sensing the seepage of the orc's life force, Charlot smiled and swung his hand out, an echo of bells filling the room as the shaman fell to her knees. Uzza smiled at the boy in thanks, then grimaced as she turned to the foul necromancer. She felt divine might pass through her as she lifted her symbol aloft, and a moment later the orc was engulfed in holy fire.

In the resulting frenzy, wizards and clerics alike picked off the scrambling zombies, while fighters and paladins and pirates took out the remaining orcs. When there was one orc left standing (apart from Nula), the pirate held her blades to his throat. "What were you after down here, ya lubber?" she growled. The orc spat at her feet.

"I answer to no traitor," he grunted in broken Common. "Found holy site for shaman, born again soon! You pay then!"

He then threw himself at Nula, but simply fell upon her swords. She cleaned them on his shirt and turned to shrug at Robyn. "Worth a shot." The half-elf nodded in understanding and motioned to Oskar and Uzza. The two headed down the passage the shaman had emerged from.

As they walked down the dark corridor, they heard the grave-moans of the undead that had escaped the slaughter in the previous room. As they came upon the aimless bodies, the two dispatched of them with mystical flame and ensorcelled axe. After a few twists and turns, the passage ended with a foul chamber littered with skeletons, and a sickly slab of granite posing as an altar. It was there that they found cruel instruments and implements of torture, along with crudely written notes and several chalices of liquid that resembled blood. In one corner, a pile of clothes and trinkets were tossed unceremoniously.

Once the rest of the party had been summoned to the final chamber, Idu glanced around and immediately came to a conclusion. "Looks like this is where that shaman was raising her dead," he remarked, gingerly leafing through the notes, which appeared to have been written on dried, leathery skin. "The rest of the tools here seem a bit superfluous, though the altar does appear to be some sort of locus for necromantic power."

"Any way you can shut it off?" Robyn asked, not particularly hopefully. When Idu shook his head after a moment's thought, she continued, "I suppose that was a bit optimistic. Oskar, reckon you can cave in this room?"

While the dwarf silently paced the length of the room, pressing his hand against the wall in certain spots and mumbling to himself, the party did its own search of the room. As Isolde was digging through what were assumedly the miners' belongings, she let out a gasp and held up a wooden medallion. "An oak medallion! My mentor told me about these. Woodland elves are known to carry these with them as they travel, to always have a piece of their home with them."

Nula bent down to examine the talisman. "It's made from the wood of their homes?" she asked, squinting at the carved insignia of a wide tree.

Isolde snatched the medallion away from the half-orc. "No, it summons a tree." Nula back away, wary of the narrow walls surrounding them.

After Oskar had finished his circuit, he grunted in affirmation and turned to Idu. "Could you shatter these two points?" He pointed to an area of the ceiling and a section of wall that appeared to already be crumbling.

Idu glanced down at his spellbook and nodded. The party retreated further down the passage and waited as Idu sat cross-legged on the damp rock floor and opened his spellbook in front of him. Several minutes of preparation and chanting later, Idu jabbed from the spellbook to the chamber, uttering a binding word and releasing the spells. Two loud cracks rang out from the chamber, and a torrent of boulders fell from above, splitting the altar and filling in the skeleton-strewn room. As Oskar had intended, there was no spillage into the corridor.

Spirits were high as the party emerged from the dank caves into the setting sunlight. It would be full dark by the time the party made it back to the village, but Robyn was eager to return and report their success to that doubting mayor. The gold was certainly welcome, but Robyn thrived off of the looks of astonishment her team invariably earned as they proved their worth. Today the mayors and innkeepers of the realm learned to expect great things from them, but perhaps tomorrow it would be kings and queens who granted them vast boons for completing daring quests. Robyn knew it was only a matter of time.


	2. Chapter 1 - To Red Larch

The cool morning air was pierced by a hiss. Abu reared its head over the helpless Despacito, then recoiled as Uzza's bare foot struck out at it. The snake directed its ire to the tiefling cleric, instead, before slithering back to the bedroll where Idu lay chuckling. Uzza felt her groggy annoyance bristle at the scrawny boy's amusement. "Put a leash on that thing!" she warned, gathering the pet mouse in a hand as she began to break down her resting space.

Isolde looked up from her own packing, a serene look on her face, eyes not quite focusing on anything present. "Where would you put a leash? As Mielikki has said, snakes are all neck!" she intoned, nodded gently as if her misremembered scripture shone some amount of understanding on the conflict. Nearby, Oskar chuckled as he rose from his resting place.

Uzza shook her head and returned to folding her sheets, grumbling as she gathered her belongings, "He's a wizard! Should be able to figure something out…"

Her bedroll tucked tightly, Isolde finished the buckles on her armor and lightly stepped through the camp to Robyn's sleeping form. The paladin suppressed an exasperated sigh at the uncapped flask dangling from their leader's grip, and gently nudged the half-elf in her ribs. To her credit, Robyn only blinked groggily for a second before her other hand whipped from under her pillow, dagger brandished at the intrusion, but still in its sheath. "Wha - oh, Isolde, didn't realize it was you. Why are you up so early? And why are those leaves so loud?"

Isolde pursed her lips, tilting her head to listen to the symphony of the early day around them: the susurration of oak leaves up above them, the sweet melodies of songbirds already flitting about, the lapping voice of the nearby brook as it splashed over current-smoothed stones. Nothing loud, not to her. Everything was as it should - "Idu!" followed by the young boy's open laughter. Except for the voices of their companions, somehow still unable to get along after their months together. Isolde sighed, wondering why they couldn't learn from the synchronized harmony that surrounded them.

"It's not early, Robyn, and I've already woken you once this morning." Robyn gave a muffled response.

Across the camp, Charlot poked his head from the flap of a fine tent. "Could you all keep it down before breakfast is prepared? Some of us require our beauty sleep."

Isolde smiled amicably at the cleric. "Beauty comes from nature, not from sleep."

At this, Charlot looked the paladin up and down, glance lingering on the twigs entwined in her hair. "Well, that doesn't mean we should all give up," he sniffed, retreating within the tent. A second later, he cried out, "And don't forget the mushrooms for breakfast!"

Nula and Robyn had walked to the nearby brook, planning to bring back fish to prepare for the group. Robyn unslung her bow from her back, knocking back a swig from her flask before nocking an arrow. The half-elf locked her gaze on a silvery shadow beneath the rippling surface before steadying her arm and pulling back, holding the feathering by the corner of her mouth for a heartbeat before loosing the arrow. There was a loud gulp from the water, and a split second later the fish floated to the surface - or rather, what was left of the fish. The arrow was caught in the exploded carcass of a fish, guts already being carried away by the current, bits of scale and fin spread out across the surface of the water. "Hm."

"No luck, captain?" Nula called from upstream, splashing her way in bare feet to Robyn. The half-elf sighed and eyed her flask before glancing back at the half-orc. She was grinning from ear to ear and held one of her boots in her hands. It was dripping wet and appeared to be shaking, and as she approached Robyn realized there were two fish in the boot. Robyn grinned back.

As the two walked back into camp, pretending the two fish hooked on Nula's fingers were the only ones they caught, Idu's falcon familiar screeched and swooped over the busy bodies, dropping a dead rabbit at its owner's feet. The youth beamed as he lifted it towards Robyn. "See? Archimicarus wanted to help, too!"

Isolde sniffed down her nose at the bloody corpse. "A falcon with a rabbit is worth two with a salad," she intoned, turning on her heel and beginning a search for edible leaves. Idu's eyes narrowed as his mind churned. Had he heard that one before? It didn't sound quite right…

As Robyn lit their campfire and pulled her iron pot from her pack, Charlot's head poked back out of his tent. "Mushrooms?" he asked hopefully, sniffing the air as the sizzling fish began to cook.

"Rabbit," Robyn replied, nodding to where Nula sat skinning the beast. Charlot's mouth tightened as his eyes rolled in their eyelined sockets, but a moment later he was out of the tent and offering Robyn some spices from his personal stash for the breakfast.

After the gang had begun to break their fast (Isolde having returned with a plate full of berries and roots) Robyn called for their attention. They were only a day's journey from a little settlement called Red Larch, where Robyn had passed through before, and she felt it would be a good place to look for their next job. Without objections, the party finished their meal.

As they gathered their belongings, Isolde wandered to a nearby tree and wrapped her gauntleted arms around it, breathing in deeply and opening her mind to the nature around her. At the same time, Uzza and Charlot sat across from each other, legs crossed, eyes closed, Uzza clutching her holy symbol to her chest, Charlot toying with the shrunken skull he kept with him as he muttered beneath his breath. Their connections with their deities restored, the three grabbed their packs and followed after the group as it headed through the woods.

They had only been traveling for an hour when Nula stopped them. Oskar began to ask what was wrong, but Robyn silenced him with a signal. Nula tilted her head for a moment, then pointed off the path to the right. "Footsteps. Hundred feet away," she murmured, just loud enough for her voice to carry through the group. "Big."

Robyn nodded and turned to Idu. "See what we've got. Let's approach this ontomolaly."

Idu was on the verge of asking what exactly she meant before he thought better of it and reached out with his mind to the circling form of Archimicarus high above. He took a deep breath, and then his eyes rolled up into his head. The falcon gave a shrill shriek and winged off to the right of the path. A couple moments later, Idu's grunted and spoke, eyes still showing white, "Two ogres. Hundred feet off. Not expecting anything." Robyn clapped him on the back and nodded to the rest of the group.

"Let's go."

A few minutes of cautious travel later, Idu signaled a halt as they approached a rocky outcropping surrounding a clearing. Within, a pair of ogres sat, one trying to stack a pile of rocks, the other sifting through a small assortment of shoddily constructed weaponry. Robyn nodded to the rest, holding up three fingers, and counted down.

As their leader dropped her hand and pulled back an arrow, Charlot stepped forward and released his focused spell. A glowing bolt flew from outstretched fingers, soaring through the intervening air and grazing the tin bucket atop an ogre's head. Charlot's eyes narrowed in annoyance and the ogres looked up.

As the bolt burst upon the boulder behind the ogre, Oskar and Isolde darted forward, drawing within reach of the ogre before it could respond. Oskar held up his axe and brought it down on the ogre while Isolde stood behind the dwarf, reaching out easily with her halberd to rake at the ogre's flesh.

As the two accosted the ogre, Robyn and Idu steadied themselves and unleashed a barrage of fire and arrows. Nula dashed forward for the second ogre, laughing heartily as her swords painted the ogre's hide in a red mist. For her troubles, the ogre bellowed and dropped its heavy club on her head, sending the half-orc reeling. Uzza called out her name and chanted a few words, and lifeforce surged back into Nula, straightening her shoulders and restarting her laugh.

As Nula renewed her assault on the second ogre, Charlot widened his stance and flung a hand towards the first beast, mimicking the ringing of a bell. Immediately, a harsh clangor filled the clearing, and the ogre's hands flew to its ears, its own howl adding to the din. Taking advantage of this, Oskar redoubled his attack, with Isolde sending a flurry of strikes to the ogre's exposed front. Seeing an opening, Robyn steadied an arrow and loosed, breathing slowly as the shaft of wood found its mark, and a heavy thud filled the area as the ogre's body fell, lifeless, to the rocky ground.

Meanwhile, Nula was darting in and out of reach of the second ogre's tree trunk of a club. The half-orc cried out withering taunts as her blades left signature swirls in the thick hide, and as the ogre's temper began to rise, Nula nimbly stepped back, dodging the blows as they fell. With a frustrated roar, the ogre overextended, stumbling a half-step in its wild attempt at retribution. Seeing her opportunity, Nula grinned and ducked beneath the thick arms, laughing garishly as she drove the point of her sword into the eye socket of the ogre, jumping back just in time as it crumpled around her.

As the group shared congratulations and Oskar parsed through the mostly-useless pile of weapons to find serviceable axes, Robyn caught her breath. "Alright, gang, short rest before we continue. Got a fair bit of ground to cover before we reach Red Larch. Don't want to need to stop due to exhaustimication."

A little over an hour later, the band marched into the quaint village of Red Larch. The surrounding forest having been beaten back a couple hundred feet, the dozen or so buildings sat in quiet repose, as if saving energy for the eventual return of the encroaching wilderness.

Among the first few buildings they came upon was one attached to a small fenced-in yard, with a coop that seemed half the size of the house. A sign of admirable quality, but in need of a fresh coat of paint, proclaimed the establishment "Mandaver's Poultry". Robyn stepped up to the door and knocked politely, but it did not appear that Minthra was home. A few minutes later, a man in a leather apron from across the way approached them, watching with guarded eyes as he explained that Mini was not in at the moment.

Immediately alert to the scent of tannery fluids, Isolde cleared her throat. "Beware the road of the depraved," she intoned, "for it is paved with the leathery skins of poor little animals." The neighbor's mouth drew taut as he eyed the branch-crown and flower-adorned armor of the paladin.

"Well, some of us need to make a living," he replied tersely, turning to Robyn, who looked the most leaderly. "You can try for her at either the bars or the All Faith's Shrine." With a final look of annoyance in Isolde's direction, the tanner turned on his heel and headed back to his home, behind which several racks of drying leather could be seen.

"Repent!" the paladin called out to his retreating back. "Repent, for nature will have its day in the sun!" Several members of the party hid snickering behind their hands, and the others withheld sighs.

The gang decided to try the inns first. The Swinging Sword was the larger of the two, as one of the tallest buildings in the village, and much nicer. The Helm at High Sun was a dingy hall, with no upper levels for rooms, where frequently repaired stools and tables spoke of many a tumultuous night. Neither establishment could boast very many patrons at this hour, and Robyn was able to quickly determine that Mini was not at either location.

As they stepped outside of the Swinging Sword, a mouthwatering aroma wafted toward the group. Her memory triggered by the fresh scent, Robyn exclaimed, "Oh, that must be Loran's bakery! She has the best buns. Positively the best odiferocity." Stomachs rumbling, the band decided to take a short break from their search for lunch.

The source of the heavenly scent was a stout house with many windows, each opened wide and holding plates of steaming buns. Inside, the smell of fresh bread was almost overwhelming. Robyn called out, and a moment later a flour-coated woman with stoutness to match her house came bustling out of the kitchen into the foyer, reimagined as a storefront with wide tables holding multitiered displays, upon which sat earthen platters bearing smooth buns the color of tanned hide.

"Hello, dearies," the kindly lady greeted them, flashing a smile as she patted down her apron, futilely attempting to wipe off some of the flour and succeeding in coating the table behind which she stood. "It'll be two coppers a bun, if you've a hankering."

"What is that lovely scent?" Uzza asked, her nose practically lifting from her face to move closer to the displays. Loran treated her with a smile.

"My specialty, dear," she replied, taking the tiefling's appearance in stride, "cheese topped buns, stuffed with mushrooms." Charlot's ears perked up, and he joined most of the others as they laid copper pieces upon the countertop.

Isolde asked if there were any buns without cheese, with only the barest sniff of disapproval, and Loran returned a second later with fresh from the oven buns, handing her a bun on a plate before paddling cheese onto the rest of the buns. Isolde reached into her pack for a few fresh leaves, which she crumpled and sprinkled over the hot bun. "A good plant is the best plant," she casually explained in singsong tones.

Nula snorted and asked, "What exactly is a bad plant?"

The paladin paused in her sprinkling for a moment and looked thoughtful before responding, "A chicken."

As they began to eat, satisfied groans and heavenly whimpers filled the small house, as they so often did, and as several of the group reaching for seconds, Robyn swallowed a delicious mouthful and inquired after Mini.

Loran sighed lightly. "Terrible trouble lately, Mini with her poor granddaughter, Pel. Poor girl claims to have seen a ghost, hasn't quieted about it in weeks."

The group's interest was piqued, and they huddled around the woman. "A ghost?" Charlot asked, fingers straying to the fetish hidden in his coat pocket. "Where? In town?"

Loran laughed, a breezy chuckle. "Heavens, no, this was out by the barrows to the north. Ol' Mini took the girl there to show her there was nothing to fear, but then the pair came back claiming they had seen goblins. Goblins! This close to Red Larch! Can you imagine?"

The group exchanged significant glances. In their journeys, the things that went bump in the night always ended up closer than the innocent liked to believe. Robyn thanked Loran for the buns and the information, Isolde picked up an extra bun for later, and the band exited.

The group decided to check in at the Swinging Sword, hoping to find word of Mini and Pel. As they made their way, however, Nula and Oskar's notice was drawn by a smithee down the road, and they promised to head to the inn as soon as possible. Nula's eyes lit up as she entered the shop, glancing at the smith's wares.

It was mostly simple farming tools, as a community like Red Larch had little need for weapons of war, but Ulhro Luruth, the smith, offered to stud her leather armor for a small fee, after being convinced this imposing green woman was not here to rob him. Oskar hefted the pair of salvageable battleaxes from the ogres earlier in the day and asked what the smith could offer for them. The stout man pondered this a while, testing the edges of the blades and supposing that they could easily be converted to lumber axes. After a price was agreed upon, the two headed back to the Swinging Sword.

Meanwhile, Charlot was sweet-talking Caelessa, the barkeep and owner of the Swinging Sword, between bites of a fancy meal. (It was so much better than the buns from down the lane, he assured her. Having tasted Loran's wares herself, Caelessa was not convinced, but she appreciated the lad's manners.) As there were still few other patrons in the tavern's common room, she leaned against the bar and answered the boy's questions, informing him that Mini and Pel spent most of their free time in All Faith's Shrine following the deaths of the little girl's parents, and that he should be able to find the pair there most any time of day, especially if Mini wasn't tending her chickens.

After a sideways glance at the amount of weaponry the strangers bore, Caelessa cleared her throat and tossed her rag on the bartop. "Listen, folks such as yourselves wouldn't know it, but there's been trouble lately. And not just little girls and old ladies scared of what isn't there. I'm not one to talk of such things, least not while the sun is up, but you should seek out the constable, man by the name of Harberk Toothmarralar. Comes by my place most nights, if you care to return."

Charlot winked a long eyelash. "Oh, I do believe you can expect to see me again, darling." He delicately popped a final morsel of stew into his mouth, smiling widely. "And I expect to have more of your delicious stew." The party left Caelessa blushing, and made their way through town to All Faith's Shrine.

All Faith's Shrine was a grand temple, as far as the village of Red Larch was concerned. It boasted two flags of thick wool hanging from the eaves of its front, richly dyed and showing regular upkeep. One depicted an upright flaming sword; the other, a blank scroll.

As they stepped within the temple doors, they could hear a girl's voice echoing from down the hall, clamoring about ghosts. "I did too see a ghost! You weren't there, you can't say I didn't!"

In a chamber off the main hall, Robyn recognized Mini, whom she had helped a couple years ago with a troublesome troupe of hooligans scaring away customers. She had her hands on her hips and appeared to be at her wits' end. Hanging onto the old woman's skirt was a young girl, no more than eight, glaring petulantly at a robed figure. "My dear, there's no need to worry," the man said in gentle tones. "You must not have seen what you think you saw. You're safe here."

As the group stepped into the room, Charlot spoke up. "He doesn't know what he's talking about, love. There are certainly dead things that are worth fearing. Better to know than be taken unawares." The priest glowered at the youth, while Pel seemed unable to decide between looking victorious and disturbed.

"Do not encourage her," Mini warned, though there was little bite in her words. The woman seemed tired, more than anything, and as Pel began to bounce around her grandmother, it was little wonder why.

"I knew it! I did see a ghost! I told you, I told you, I told you…"

Robyn stepped up beside Charlot. "Hello again, Minthra. Could you tell us where your granddaughter saw this, erm, ghost?"

Mini squinted in unfamiliarity and caught her granddaughter as she circled around again. "Have we met before?"

Robyn laughed heartily. "Oh, Mini, a kidder as always, so splendrified." Mini chuckled uneasily and clutched Pel closer.

In the main hall, acolytes approached Isolde as she sat by an altar, arms wrapped around it. At their inquisitive stares, she simply shrugged and responded, "It's how I was taught." As the rest of the group re-entered the hall, Robyn looked aghast at the acolytes telling off the paladin.

"She has as much a right to worship as any of you! It is All Faith's Shrine, after all!" When the priest attempted to interrupt her, she raised a hand. "Sir, it is descornable!"

Before the group could be evicted from the premises, Robyn offered to cook a meal for Mini and Pel. "And then, perhaps you can tell us more about this ghost," she suggested to the young girl, much to Mini's annoyance.

As they walked back to Mini's house, they discussed the encounter. "She'd been talking non-stop about it for days," Mini bemoaned, while Charlot walked beside the girl. "I didn't think much of it, but when she wouldn't stop, I had to teach her there was nothing to be afraid of. Only…"

"Only you saw something out there," Oskar grunted, drawing a sigh of acceptance from the woman.

"I don't know what I saw. Green flesh, bulbous eyes, I couldn't have Pel around anything like that. I hightailed it back to Red Larch as fast as I could."

"And this was where, exactly?" Isolde asked.

"Up by the barrows, three miles to the north and to the east a bit."

Isolde nearly stopped in her tracks. "And Pel had traveled that far by herself?" Mini just shrugged. "I guess it's not like she's a chicken," Isolde muttered under her breath. "She doesn't need that much attention."

As they walked, Charlot let Pel hold the shrunken goblin skull he channeled his spells through. The little girl was fascinated. "And where did you see this ghost?" Charlot asked again. The girl was finding it hard to concentrate.

"Across from the barrow, there are planks over the door, but I saw the ghost floating inside! It was incorp… incoper… see through!"

"Incarcerated," Robyn offered.

Once they returned to Mini's home, Robyn fulfilled her promise and cooked up a respectable meal, which Mini and Pel thanked her for (though they still asked for payment for the chicken). After that, the gang headed up the north road to the barrows.

The road was relatively well kept, but they did not come across a single soul. After a couple miles, a crude sign pointed down a less-traveled path to the right, indicating the resting spot of figures from the past, perhaps some ancestors of a family from Red Larch. The way from there was more tedious, as brambles and fallen branches seemed less controlled, but before long they spied a raised earthen mound in the distance. As they drew near, a possum darted out from the underbrush. Isolde flung her arms out to halt the party and dropped to the ground. After reaching out, with spirit and arms, to the forest around them, she began chittering at the possum.

After a minute of frantic chatter, Isolde pulled out the remains of her bun and dropped the crumbs before the creature. It dipped its head up and down, shoveled the bread into its mouth, and scampered off. Isolde straightened up and took a deep breath, then turned and saw everyone staring at her, waiting.

"Oh! This little fellow doesn't know much about the barrows, but he did say that there have been a couple 'two-legs' nearby in the last few days. He said there was a smaller being and a larger one."

Robyn thought for a moment. The barrow was not going anywhere, and if Pel could make it up here alone, so could other villagers. These creatures could be serious danger for them. "Did your furry friend tell you where it last saw them?" Isolde indicated an area in the woods, several minutes walk away. Robyn nodded to Idu. "Archimicarus ready for some reconnoisseurance?"

Idu scratched his head. "I think you mean… Yeah, we're ready." Right on cue, the falcon dove from the heights where he had been circling, swooping over the party's heads before winging his way in the direction Isolde pointed. Idu's eyes glazed over, and he began dictating the flight.

"Seems like there's a clearing a couple hundred feet away… I can see a camp, and three heads… One of them is an ettin, the other's a goblin."

"Can you see how they're armed?" Oskar asked, hefting his battleaxe.

"Let me get a little closer," Idu mumbled, then the boy yelled and fell backwards, clutching at some unseen wound on his chest. "Well, they have a bow, at least."

A few minutes later, the group approached the campsite as quietly as they could. They could hear the rumbling of the ettin's heads conversing, and the quiet squeaking of the goblin. Idu motioned to Robyn, indicating they had arrived, and she held up a hand. As she brought it down, the gang leapt into action.

Fearless as always, Nula tossed herself into the fray first, ignoring the goblin and dashing to the large ettin. Its four eyes widened with surprise as Nula's swords began to sing, darting through the air as they peppered its hide with slashes. At the same time, Charlot and Uzza stood shoulder to shoulder and raised their respective symbols, chanting as a necrotic beam and divine fire rained down on the ettin at the same time.

Robyn pulled an arrow from her quiver and focused on it, lacing the shaft with her will as she drew the bowstring. As it released, it flew toward the goblin, who immediately let out a wild cry and began cowering on the ground, helpless against Robyn's iron will.

The ettin finally gathered its wits and hefted a cruel looking battleaxe, which it immediately swung in wide arcs at Nula. A moment later, the half-orc's jarring laughter was cut short, and her body fell to the ground. Charlot felt her lifeforce shudder, and crooked a finger in Nula's direction. "Not so fast," he muttered, and Nula felt her soul slip back into her body. She was still heavily wounded, but she felt her heart-rate stabilize.

Charlot was not through, yet, though. With his other hand, he reached for the hulking frame of the ettin, calling upon the powers of the grave as he murmured an incantation. The ettin's eyes widened in surprise yet again, as it found itself unable to move a muscle. Beads of sweat glistened on Charlot's forehead as he held the spell. "Now!" he cried through gritted teeth.

Isolde and Oskar dashed into the fray, taking easy shots at the immobilized ettin, pulling muffled roars from its frozen mouths. Robyn readied another arrow and took aim, firing at the statuesque figure. Her arrow found its mark and then some, entering through one ear and out the other, then back into the third ear and out the fourth. Charlot felt the resistance fade, and as he released the spell, the gargantuan form toppled to the ground.

Having received a pick-me-up from Uzza, Nula leapt to her feet and turned on the remaining goblin. What followed is hardly fit to be depicted here, other than to say the goblin was completely eviscerated, and most would be hard pressed to say what the remaining shreds of flesh had previously been.

The threat contained, the party searched the remains of the campsite, coming up with a smallish purse filled mostly with coppers, and a pile of adventuring gear, most of which was stained with the blood of recent owners. Apart from a couple longswords and shields and a set of leather armor, most of the pile was too damaged for any vigorous use. Still, Oskar strapped the weapons and armor to his pack, content to offload them when able. The site having been picked clean, the group returned to the barrow.

The planks covering the entrance to the barrow were easily enough removed, and beyond stretched a square corridor, 10 feet high, that stretched into darkness. Uzza and Oskar informed them it seemed to be about 30 feet long, and beyond lay a room with what appeared to be a large stone tablet in the middle.

Just before they ventured in, Isolde cast a spell to detect any undead presence. Sure enough, there was a being about thirty feet into the barrow. Armed and prepared, the group made their way down the corridor and into the chamber beyond.

A stone table sat in the middle of the room, and to the right a rusted iron door led deeper into the barrow. Before they could discuss proceeding further, a spectral knight suddenly appeared.

The group hefted weapons, drew arrows, and readied spells, but something stopped them. Perhaps it was the guarded manner of the apparition, perhaps it was the deathly stillness in the barrow. After an uneasy second, the spirit's mouth began to move, though the voice seemed to emanate from the entirety of the room.

"I am Sir Loras the Vigilant, guardian of this tomb. What is your purpose here?"

The group shared glances, but it was Isolde who stepped forward to speak. "We are travelers here to investigate the claims of a young girl, who insists she saw a ghost here." She stared pointedly as the ghost hovered over the ground.

"The child has no need to fear so long as she does not disturb my master's tomb," Loras's voice echoed. "He rests here with priceless artifacts, the remnants of a life well lived."

Nula's eyes began to glitter at the prospect of buried booty, but Robyn nodded and motioned for the party to regroup outside. With a final longing glance at the iron door, Nula followed the others.

It was decided that the threat from the ghostly guardian was minimal, and that the denizens of Red Larch simply needed to stay away from the barrows. Together, the band made their way back to the village. The bars were now in full swing, as farmers tried to drown out a busy day of husbandry in drink and good company. The crowd at the Swinging Sword was considerably less rowdy than that at the Helm at High Sun, and so Charlot, Uzza, Isolde, and Idu opted to settle in for a nice meal and then straight off to bed. It had been an eventful day, after all.

While they ate, Oskar nudged Nula. "Care to see how the beer in this town holds up?"

Nula smiled, smelling a challenge. "Better than you, Oskar, that's for sure." The dwarf chuckled as he led the way, with Robyn tagging along, having heard the promise of alcohol. As they got up to leave, Isolde tutted.

"One shall not poison one's body with the disgustingness of alcohol."

Inside the bustling Helm at High Sun, farmers rubbed shoulders with acolytes from the temple. Laughter and arguments filled the air, but Nula's imposing form parted the masses as the three made their way to the bar. Glancing at the prices, Oskar tossed six coppers onto the polished wood. Nula threw down seven. Robyn snorted and called for a bottle of wine.

Three tankards in, Oskar wiped his mustache and turned to his drinking partner. "Care to make this interesting?" he asked, voice still clear.

Nula drained her drink and nodded. "What did you have in mind?"

Oskar appeared pensieve for a moment, then rumbled, "Loser wields the other's weapon tomorrow."

Nula grinned, reaching for another tankard. "Hope you're as handy with a sword as you are with your axes, then!"

While the two fought for the barkeep's attention, Robyn glanced over the crowd, eyes lighting on a tall figure with a prominent badge on his collar. Lifting her goblet, Robyn picked her way through the crushing crowd to the constable's side.

"Hear you have trouble," she insinuated after introducing herself. "We happen to be the perfectomonius people to handle it." She took a swig of wine. "Whatever it is."

Harberk glanced over to the bar, where a sizeable crowd was gathering around the dwarf and half-orc as they slammed down tankards. "Well, if the rest of you can handle yourselves as well as those two can handle their drink, you just might be right."

A moment later, a great cheer rose to the rafters of the bar, and a large amount of money changed many hands, as Nula slumped over, mumbling into her tankard. Oskar, stoic as ever, finished the rest of his drink, then hefted the woman's body, twice as tall as his own, over his shoulders and turned for the door.

Harberk's eyebrows raised. "See me tomorrow about Trickle Rock Cavern. I suspect your group will need to recover from the night's… festivities."

"Some more than others," Robyn laughed, and minutes later Oskar returned to the bar, placing three more coppers on the bar steadily.


	3. Chapter 2 - Making a Name

Rosy sunlight peeked into Nula's room at the Swinging Sword, deftly making its way to her bloodshot eyes. In a flash, the half-orc was up, brandishing a dagger from beneath her pillow, but she slumped back onto the sheets as her eyes swept the empty room. With a groan and muttered gripes about her splitting headache, she prepared herself for the day, but as she opened the door to the corridor, she was all grins and bravada, determined to show the world she was made of tougher stuff. By her door, a chipped battleaxe was propped up against the wall. Nula chuckled and undid her sword belt, leaving it in the room as she strapped the battleaxe across her back.

Below, in the common room, the rest of the party was digging into hearty meals. Uzza fed morsels to Despacito while she glared at Abu, but the snake was coiled lazily around Idu's limbs, seeming to the world like an exotic scarf. As Nula stepped into the room, Robyn waved her over, and caught her up to speed.

"Rise and shine, Nula. We've got a few errands to run today, and we were just deciding how to handle them all. It appears we have three leads in town, and I think we should be able to speak to them all before deciding our next plans here in Red Larch."

Robyn explained how she had spoken to the constable the night before about some trouble the village was having, and how he had invited them to his house the next day. Afterwards, a visibly drunk clothier had introduced himself as Helver Tarnlar and mentioned a trove of treasure at Trickle Rock Cavern. Both deserved follow-up, and the other party members had wanted to check in on the ghost they had met the day before. He had mentioned priceless artifacts, after all, and if the soul the ghost was guarding had been less than virtuous in life, well, then wouldn't it be better to put those dusty artifacts to constructive use? Robyn recalled that All Faith's Shrine held records, and while they were not particularly exhaustive, they were worth searching for answers.

As they set out from the inn, the smithee from the day before was approaching. In his arms, he held a bundle packaged in homemade paper. As he spotted Nula, he called out, "I was just looking for you! Got your studded leather armor ready, just like I said I would."

Nula thanked the man, then glanced into her purse, meekly looking up at Oskar. "I'll hold onto that battleaxe another day if you'll help me out with this."

The dwarf chuckled and pulled out a handful of coins. "Don't worry about it, lass."

As Nula ripped open the paper, Isolde sniffed and turned to Uzza, claiming in a loud voice, "I was told using leather armor would bring about the end times." Uzza nodded, hiding a smile behind her hand, while Idu stuck his nose in the air and made a crude face, drawing a guffaw from Oskar.

After Nula had slipped on the armor, the group split into three teams and headed across the village; Isolde and Oskar headed to All Faith's Shrine to research the ghost, Uzza and Nula set off to inquire after the village clothier, and Charlot, Robyn, and Idu followed Caelessa's directions to the side street known as "The Butchers" to find the constable.

Within the Shrine, Isolde and Oskar caught the attention of a priest of Oghma. Isolde explained that they were looking for information regarding those buried in the barrows to the north, and the priest began to stroke his beard, humming as he thought. Isolde found this grating, and several moments passed before the priest turned back to the pair and mentioned that, yes, they did keep records of the like, but that times had been hard for the Shrine, and that record management could be a costly enterprise. Isolde stared blank-faced at him for a second before the priest coughed and extended a hand, rubbing thumb and fingers together in a universal gesture.

Isolde's eyes narrowed immediately, then grimaced as she reached into her purse, removing one of her handful of gold pieces. "As I'm sure you are aware, followers of any number of faiths do not carry many earthly goods, and this is all I can spare." She held the piece of gold aloft.

The priest raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid the records have not been cared for in quite some time."

Isolde nudged Oskar, who patted himself down and mumbled, "Oh, yes, of course, I am so faithful. Um… Here." He pulled out a pair of silver pieces, then, when the priest sighed in exasperation, extracted another three silver pieces from a pouch behind his beard.

When the priest refused to move, Isolde dropped her arm and asked, "Could I speak to your manager?" One by one, Oskar pulled out individuals coppers and placed them on his palm.

Across town, Robyn stepped off the main road to a dirt path where four buildings stood, each boasting a porch from which various meats hung. A stout woman with thick arms was on the first porch, wiping her brow and eyeing the visitors.

"I am Robyn," Robyn ventured, taking a step forward to offer her hand then thinking better of it as the stench hit. "We've come to see the constable. Do you know if he is presentitious?"

The woman grunted and responded, "Jilessa Ornrah. You'll find Toothmarralar in the last house."

Robyn nodded and thanked the woman, then nodded for Idu and Charlot to make their way. There was a single guard outside the constable's house, though he didn't seem like the type Robyn would have put in charge of anything that needed thorough security. The man was barely more than a youth, his armor was leather pads sewn onto a woolen shirt, and the lad kept yawning. Robyn smiled thinly as they walked unopposed up to the last door and rapped sharply on the frame.

A minute later, the familiar face of the constable appeared as the door was cracked open. Robyn smiled wider. "Harberk, we spoke last night. Here at your request."

The man smiled back, welcoming them into his foyer. Beyond, a small office held three chairs and a crude desk. He apologized, but Idu offered to stand. As Harberk settled into the only cushioned seat, he gathered his thoughts. "Yes, Robyn, was it? I do indeed have a problem. We have been receiving reports of bandits causing trouble to the South, along the Cairn. I would be most delighted if you and your merry band could rid us of these pests."

Robyn smiled graciously at the constable. "That sounds squarely in our roundabout-house of abilities. What were you thinking, in terms of price?"

Harberk pulled at his collar, glancing between the adventurers in turn. "Well, that's the thing. I haven't exactly… Done much of this. So I'm not quite sure… How much to pay you?"

Robyn put on a winning smile. "Now don't you worry about that. I'm sure we'll be able to come to a photosynthetic agreement."

Elsewhere, Nula and Uzza were knocking on the door of a house. To either side of them, mannequins sported finery, silent watchers for the dwelling. After a minute of waiting, the door was flung open wide, and a flamboyantly attired man stood welcoming them inside, arms wide. His smile faltered a second as he laid eyes on the half-orc and tiefling that had come calling, but he gathered himself an instant later and swept them inside. "Hello! I am Helver Tarnlar, esteemed clothier of Red Larch. Please, please, come inside."

As the pair was bustled into the door, the man began barraging them with suggestions, claiming to have just the hat to go with Nula's outfit, ("The ragged rogue, I love it!") while showing Uzza several high-necked dresses of robin's egg blue. ("The color will simply make your complexion pop.")

The two glanced at each other, hiding snickers as coughs as the man finally turned around and asked, "Was there something in particular you two lovely ladies were searching for?"

"You," Nula responded as she glanced about the room filled with foppery. This many fancy clothes would fetch half a fortune in any port. "We heard you were squawking about a hoard of treasure in Trickle Rock Cavern, and we've come to follow up on that claim."

As soon as Nula mentioned the cavern, Helver's demeanor shifted. His wide smile became a grimace; his jovial eyes widened and sank into his skull; even his body slumped forward. Without a word, the man darted behind the women and latched the door, spinning a sign in his window from "Open" to "Closed".

When the curtains had been drawn closed, he returned to the middle of the room. He glared at the two with a mix of fear and annoyance. "Where did you hear that?" he demanded, his pleasant tone replaced with urgent anxiety.

"From you," Uzza responded, laying a hand on Nula's arm before she could snap back. "You were speaking with our leader last night, a half-elf woman. You mentioned the Cavern and it's riches."

The man passed fingers through perfect hair, leaving strands jutting out all over his head. "Must have been drinking more than I thought…" he murmured before addressing the two. "Yes, I've heard rumors of treasure there, but you don't want to go there."

Nula and Uzza shared a glance. "And why wouldn't we want to do that?" Uzza asked.

"Folk say there's a monster that guards the treasure," Tarnlar muttered, then began to say something else before he pulled back, eyes darting around the room.

After a moment's pause, Nula prompted, "And you've seen this monster, have you?"

Tarnlar appeared to miss her cutting tone, and simply shook his head, saying, "The stories, they claim it's a vampire that keeps watch over the Cavern." The two glanced at each other. Neither had faced a vampire before, and tales of their cunning and viciousness were well known. No wonder this soft villager was so shaken.

"Alright, well could you point us in the direction of Trickle Rock Cavern?" Uzza asked, the first to recover.

"Down the Larch Path," Tarnlar answered automatically, before shaking himself and beginning to shoo the pair out the door. "Now, please, I'm very, very busy today, and I cannot afford this… distraction." As they stepped into the morning light, he held the door open a moment longer. "And if you find yourselves in need of a clothier, you can find one somewhere else!" With that, the door slammed shut.

After a few minutes of haggling, Robyn and Harberk agreed on a payment of five gold per head, or fifty gold total, whichever was smaller. Robyn felt a tiny bit guilty about taking advantage of the constable's lack of familiarity, but he would learn in time to be more stringent with the village's funds. Besides, her friends needed to eat, and travel could turn out to be expensive. If they hoped to make it to the big leagues, making the most of their early years would be important.

Harberk didn't even ask for a means of confirming their kill count, so Robyn gently suggested they agree upon one. When asked for suggestions, Charlot chimed in that pairs of ears usually worked; small, easy to carry, and not too difficult to… collect. The constable nearly fainted at the idea, and asked in a strangled voice if people usually asked for ears, but soon recovered what composure he had and agreed to the suggestion.

As they began discussing specifics, Robyn mused that it would be easiest to attract these bandits by posing as a caravan of their own, at which point Harberk mentioned that there were two suitable shops in the village: Wheelver's Wagon Works, for caravan runners looking to pinch coppers, and Theylorn's Safe Journeys, a much more respected establishment which held the patronage of veteran journeymen. Robyn asked if there was anything Harberk would be willing to do to circumvent the cost to the party, and he offered to pen a writ which confirmed that the group was about official business. He could not promise it would amount to a free wagon, but said it should at least help.

Back at the shrine, Isolde had reached her wits' end. The priest had continued to make snide comments as they slowly added to the meagre pile of coins in Isolde's palm, and finally Isolde broke first. "Fine!" she cried, clutching the coins to her chest. "You get none of it."

The priest's smile was a bit too wide as he responded, "We are open any time for the properly faithful." With a final smirk at Isolde's outrage, he spun on his heel and walked out of the main hall.

After his robe swished around the corner, Isolde found her tongue and blurted out, "I think you mean the properly wealthy."

Oskar chuckled and muttered, "Good one."

As they exited the Shrine, the rest of the party was walking up the street towards them. Within a couple minutes, everyone was caught up.

"Sounds like he was a swindler," Nula grunted, staring daggers at the Shrine. "Probably didn't even have any information about the barrows."

Charlot disagreed. "Why didn't you just pay him? Bribery is just part of how the world works; it's naive to think otherwise." Isolde respectfully declined to respond.

After quieting down the group, Robyn laid out their options. "We can always send someone else after the information at a later time," she began, eyeing Charlot. "For now, that leaves us with the vampire and the bandits. While the prospect of riches is tempting-" Oskar nodded fervently "-we need to consider that the village will be quite pleased to be rid of the bandit menace. And making a name for ourselves should be the first priority. Any objections?"

Oskar grumbled, but agreed to go after the bandits. Theylorn was more than happy to sell them a wagon for their quest, and offered to buy it back at full price after seeing the writ from Harberk. Once their horse was hitched to the wagon and Isolde had taken up the reins, the gang set out. Charlot hopped into the interior, pulling along Idu as he gaped at the extravagance. "You're going to love this," Charlot promised, easing into the familiarity of cushioned seats.

Edmund had always thought his life would turn out differently. Sure, the life of a brigand was exciting, and he had more wealth at his fingertips than he ever would have guessed while he had been living at his mother's farmhouse, but there were certainly dangers to the job. The boss was always in a bad mood, the other bandits picked on him as the newest recruit, and he was pretty sure it wasn't customary for the new guy to spend all his time scouting for caravans.

Regardless, he was happy. The forest all around him, a crossbow at his side, not answering to any authority (other than the chief); this was what life was. No more chores and feeding the pigs; Edmund was his own man now.

Edmund's internal monologue was interrupted as he heard the creak of a wagon on the road nearby. He was pacing quietly along the hidden paths with the careful steps he had been shown, and edged a little closer to take a look. It was a nice wagon, freshly painted, with a motley crew of guards surrounding it. Edmund rubbed his hands together. He counted four guards, and one driver. A sizeable defense, and added to the quality of the wagon, this was sure to be quite the haul. Maybe he would even get a larger share for finding them.

Hiding a gleeful chuckle, Edmund stepped cautiously back into the trees, making his way parallel to the wagon and then darting off for the hideout nearby. The boss might even smile when he was told the news.

Uzza marched forward, angling herself to step closer to Robyn. "Movement, off to the left. In the trees." Without turning to look at her, Robyn nodded and slowed, allowing the wagon's window to pull level with her. She knocked on the paneled wood and Idu's head popped out.

"Think Archimicarus can have a look to the left?" she asked, still looking straight forward. Idu nodded and quickly pulled his head back into the heavy curtains. A second later, the falcon screeched high above.

Idu's voice was muffled through the curtain. "A scout, on a path near the road. Just one."

"Follow him," Robyn ordered, allowing her gaze to wander along the trees that lined the Cairn Road. She could not see any movement anymore.

A minute later Idu's head popped back out from the wagon. "There's a cave a couple hundred feet down the road. The scout when in there, but it didn't look like there was another exit."

Robyn nodded, as if she had expected this. "Must be some sort of central hub." She motioned up to Isolde. "Might as well stop for an early bit of lunch," she called loudly to the group. Isolde reared in the horse, and in a manner of minutes the wagon was safely to the right side of the road, with the horse tied off to the nearest tree.

The five bandits slowly crept up on the unsuspecting caravaners, drawing bows and steadying crossbows as the lieutenant whistled, then cried out, "This is a robbery!" Before the five could fire, however, a whirlwind of green came careening towards them from down the road, and a fearsome half-orc was suddenly slicing Edmund with a chipped battleaxe.

The unsuspecting caravaners turned out to be armed, as well, and possibly more prepared for the conflict. Uzza raised a glowing hand, and the clouds over one of the bandits opened up to rain down fiery justice from above. Robyn deftly fired and arrow at the same bandit, felling him as the arrow quivered in his chest.

As a volley of arrows answered, Idu and Charlot focused on another bandit, sending chilling blasts of magic to strike him down. The remaining three bandits glanced at each other, then as one turned and hastily made their way through the undergrowth.

With a band of evidently skilled individuals behind them, the ruffians had more than enough incentive to sprint the entire distance back to their cavernous hideout, though the party was able to keep pace, and seconds after their dark cloaks disappeared into the cave, the seven were darting from the trees. After a moment's study, Robyn urged the group to follow.

Within, a tunnel lead a dozen or so feet before turning. Around the bend, the three runaway bandits were waiting, along with a much larger, more heavily armed man; clearly, their leader. In the back corner of the cavern, a large cage held an enormous bear. At the sight of it, Uzza gasped and muttered, "Dire bear."

A second after recognizing each other, the two groups leapt into action. Isolde and Oskar made a beeline for the chief, with Oskar running right up to his shaggy armor and slashing at it with his battleaxe. Behind him, Isolde brandished her glaive. As the two blades scratched at his form, the leader grunted, and with sickening crunches, his body began to change. Moments later, a shaggy werewolf stood before them, claws flexing as they darted out at the dwarf.

At the same time, the dire bear, incited by the scent of spilled blood, began to rock against its cage. Thud, thud, the bars rattled in their sockets, and on the third impact, they flew apart, battering the backs of the bandits as the bear burst free. Leaping with unexpected agility, the dire bear landed in the midst of the party, and, with bloodlust in its eyes, it thrashed about, claws and teeth raking against several of the party, and bringing Isolde to her knees.

Uzza, seeing this, reached out a bloodied hand and gripped Isolde's fallen form, breathing life into her limbs. With a gasp, Isolde's head snapped up, but then the werewolf brought his paws down with a howl, and the poor eco-friendly paladin was out again.

In a rage, Oskar beat his battleaxe across the werewolf's broad shoulders, and with a whine, the fanged form fell, body shifting in death back to its human origins. Even as the werewolf's death throes echoed in the chamber, Oskar raised a finger and directed dark energies towards the dire bear, as heavy spirits settled on its limbs, encumbering it.

While this was happening, Charlot, Idu, and Nula had been directing their attention at the remaining bandits, who were taking their leader's true identity very poorly, and fell easily to the rain of eldritch magic, flames, and axe blades that fell upon them. Soon, the only remaining foe was the dire bear.

Charlot glanced at Robyn, who nodded, and the fashionable youth reached out with a pale hand to the bear. As his fingers tightened, invisible chains seemed to wrap around the bear's neck, pulling its body tight as it froze. Robyn called to Isolde, who was just getting up, and shouted an order. Enflamed with her leader's directive, Isolde hefted her weapon and brought it down on the immobilized bear, striking it just at the base of the skull. There was a meaty THWAK, and the lifeless body collapsed on the rocky floor.

After a quick tour of the remainder of the cave to ensure there were no stragglers, the group set to the task of gathering the bandits' loot and collecting their ears. All in all, they ended up with six sets of human ears and a very large pair of bear ears, a pile of coins, and several bags of trade goods that would be sure to fetch a reasonable price back in town.

Isolde was very vocal about all the bites from the werewolf she had taken, and although Uzza examined her and determined she had not contracted lycanthropy, she continued to bemoan her future existence as a meat eater. ("This will surely bring about the end times.")

It was just before noon as the party made their way to the limits of Red Larch. Theylorn happily took back the lavish wagon, refunding the group's entire investment, though not without comment. As he inquired about the beat-up state of much of the group, Oskar spat a glob of blood and phlegm to the ground and growled, "You should see the other guys." Idu rattled the bag of ears helpfully, but the shopkeeper declined.

While the group moved the bags of goods to their chest at the inn, Robyn, Nula, and Isolde headed to the constable. He seemed quite surprised to see them so soon, and had to excuse himself after they dropped the bloody bag of ears on his desk. As he returned, wiping his mouth with a rag, Robyn mentioned the dire bear. As Harberk's eyes widened, Robyn continued, "I don't recall you mentioning a dire bear, and a werewolf. We feel we are owed more than we agreed upon."

"Well," the man stammered, patting his brow with the soiled rag, "I expect this is the kind of thing you'd be used to, you know, in your profession." He quailed under the rock-hard stares of Isolde and Nula, and pulled a heavy safebox from a cupboard. "However, I can see how this might have been a little more than I, eh heh, mentioned. How does an extra fifty percent sound?"

It sounded very nice indeed, and so the constable counted out forty-five gold pieces worth of coin into a hefty sack (there appeared to only be silver and copper pieces in the safebox).

As the three women turned to leave, he called out to them. "And what do you call yourselves? In case any others come looking for heroes?"

"Isolde's Vegan Eco Warriors," the paladin blurted, before Nula could shove her in the side.

The constable blinked and looked to Robyn. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

Robyn laughed nervously. "Well, that's interesting, because, you see, we don't exactly have-"

Nula stepped forward with a flourish. "We are Robyn's Crew."


	4. Chapter 3 - In Search of Treasure

As Robyn, Isolde, and Nula returned from the constable, they found that several members of the group had chosen to rest and recover their energy following the morning's adventures. Isolde, still feeling slightly faint following the amount of blood she had lost at the claws of the werewolf and dire bear, decided to join them.

The next few hours were spent in quiet repose, resting and relaxing as they pondered how to proceed. In the meantime, Robyn decided to visit Loran for some tips to recreating her bun recipe, which did not go over very well. Perhaps there was something about a campfire that brought out Robyn's cooking ability.

As soon as Robyn decided her bun cooking skills would be better left unexamined, she returned to the inn to find her companions waiting in the common room and enjoying a late lunch. Though her buns had been less than edible, she declined Nula offer of half her pie, and brought the gang together to discuss the rest of the day.

Oskar strongly suggested they attempt to reclaim the treasure of Trickle Rock Cavern, and Nula leapt at the chance to recover riches. It didn't take much for the rest of the party to be convinced, and within a dozen minutes the band was back on the road, heading for the Larch Path to find Trickle Rock Cavern.

In his fright, Tarnlar had not been particularly forthcoming when it came to Trickle Rock Cavern's exact location. So the party began their search of the surrounding areas. Using gossip and information gleaned from patrons of the Swinging Sword Inn and the Helm at High Sun, they narrowed their search down to a stretch of road a couple miles from Red Larch. They soon located a hilly area in the distance that Oskar claimed would possibly hold cavernous formations, and started off the road.

They had been marching for a few minutes when, all of a sudden, they came through the trees and into the camp of six gnolls. There was a half moment where each party simply stared at each other, and then the tension was broken as Nula dashed forward, tossing a dagger at one of the hyena-like creatures. Two bowmen retaliated by ducking behind the plentiful rocky outcroppings and taking shots at the half-orc.

Isolde and Oskar dashed forward, tossing javelins that fell just short, while Uzza sent golden words of healing to her ailing friend. As the spear-wielding gnolls moved forward, the ranged members of the party let loose a volley of magical bolts and arrows, and one of the gnolls fell to the ground clutching a smoking chunk of its chest.

Nula ran around the corner of the outcropping, slamming the battleaxe down on the furry form before darting back away. The gnoll fired a shot from its crossbow and followed her, and its jaws closed on her neck as she fell to the ground. The other bowman hooted and howled as it shot at Isolde and Oskar from behind its rock. The dwarf answered with a savage blow to one of the spearmen, almost cleaving it in two.

As Uzza found her way forward to lay a healing hand on the fallen half-orc, Idu found an opportune point between three of the gnolls and let loose a magical explosion, sending them reeling for Robyn to pick off. One more gnoll hit the ground, an arrow deep in its throat.

The remaining gnolls glanced at their fallen comrades and began to retreat, gibbering madly as they tried to skirt around the savage interlopers. Oskar swept the legs out from one of them, following up with a thrust through its chest as the others escaped.

Robyn was preparing to gather her band to follow when Idu spoke up. "Archimicarus says he's spotted a cave nearby, could be what we're looking for," he said, eyes glazing over as he communicated with the familiar. Robyn glanced after the gnolls, then back at the rest of her group, several members of which were still recovering from earlier wounds. Robyn gave the signal for the team to start their journey back to Red Larch.

"We don't want to face whatever vampire is waiting in Trickle Rock Cavern like this. We'll regroup and follow the falcon tomorrow morning."

The sun had begun to dip beneath the surrounding trees as they made their way back into Red Larch, and they made their way back to the center of town. There, Robyn set up her cooking pot beside the road, between the Swinging Sword Inn and All Faiths' Shrine.

As they discussed the area they suspected the Cavern to be, childish giggling filled the air, and then little Pel came around the corner, quickly spying the group who had promised to look into her ghost. She ran ahead of her grandmother and started tugging on Robyn's cloak. "Whatcha doing?" she asked sweetly.

"Making dinner," Robyn explained. "You need to be resourceful." She grabbed a handful of leaves she had picked on their way back and tossed them into the simmering liquid.

After a few moments of watching the half-elf stir, the child piped up again, "Have you talked to the ghost yet?"

Charlot coughed and began, "Well," before being cut off.

"Yes!" Robyn exclaimed, nudging the girl gently. "And he's friendly! Not scary after all." She shot a glare at Charlot, who was looking on with disbelief. "But you can't go back up there," she quickly added, realizing what idea she had just planted. "It wouldn't be safe."

It was too late. Pel was grinning from ear to ear, and she shouted out, "I'm gonna talk to it!"

The spoon clattered in the pot as Robyn raised her hands to emplore, "No, that's a really bad idea, sweetie, please stay away."

The child would not be reasoned with. "But I wanna do it!" By this time, Mini had caught up to her granddaughter, and was looking with a stern questioning glance on the conversation.

"Mini," Robyn said, turning her attention to the guardian, "you cannot allow Pel to go back to those barrows."

Mini's eyes narrowed at the demanding tone. "I think I can handle my granddaughter well enough, thank you very much."

Robyn thought back to how Pel had managed to, without supervision, trek all the way up to the barrows in the first place. "Of course you can, but might I interest you in this newfangled concept nobles in all the biggest cities are getting into? It's a leash that goes on your child!"

With a harumph, Mini gathered Pel's hand and led her away, leaving Robyn calling out her warnings and entreaties by the side of the road.

"That went well," Isolde commented, drawing a stern stare from Robyn. At this point, a figure emerged from the Shrine's front doors, drawn by the commotion.

His eyes glanced from the retreating backs of Mini and Pel to the slightly burned pot of stew (he assumed) to Robyn's frantic expression. "Is there… something you all need?" he asked, smiling in as accommodating a way as he was able.

Robyn darted forward, clutching the robes of the man. "Yes, we need to learn about the barrows to the north," she burst out. "A girl's life hangs in the balance. It is indomitable that you help us."

The man extricated himself from her grip and chuckled uneasily. "Well, our records are open to the public. We are closed now, but in the morning, I am sure someone will be able to help you." He paused a beat. "Not me though, I'm just an acolyte." Appeased for the moment, Robyn settled back before her cooking pot, wondering how she would salvage it, while Isolde seemed like she would erupt.

"Did you just say," she asked calmly, totally at odds with her pained expression, "that the records were free to use?" The acolyte was already halfway inside, however, and quickly closed the door when he turned and saw the look on Isolde's face.

"Come back tomorrow!" came the muffled voice from behind the door.

With the excitement dying down, Robyn tasted a spoonful of the stew and asked how much everyone wanted. "About that," Charlot said slowly, backing up toward the Inn. "I was thinking of grabbing a bite inside. It isn't your food," he lied quickly. "I just think there might be more we can glean from Caelessa."

Nula snorted, "I'll bet there's a lot more you can glean." But he had already begun walking inside. Within a minute, Idu and Isolde had followed him inside, leaving Nula, Uzza, and Oskar to join Robyn for her meal. As they began to tuck in, Uzza offered her pet mouse some of the concoction. Little Despacito went running away into the brush in search of more appealing food.

As they finished up the meal and cleaned out the dishes, Uzza decided to spend the night indoors. "Think I'll stay outside," Oskar grunted, reaching for his pack.

"Me too!" Nula responded, too quickly. "We don't need no indoors, right captain?" She turned to see Robyn walking inside with Uzza. Only slightly perturbed, she set up her bedroll and began to sleep.

As the moon shone bright on Red Larch, something jolted Nula from her sleep. Yards away, something rustled in the brush. "Despacito, is that you?" she called out in a half-whisper. A gibbering laughter answered, eerily reminiscent of the hooting calls of the gnolls they had attacked that day. Instantly alert, Nula crawled over to the snoring lump that was Oskar and shook him awake.

"I heard something in the brush!" she whispered, pointing.

Blinking sleep from his eyes, Oskar spared the silent bushes a glance and rolled over. "We're in the middle of the town, lass. There's nothing there. Go back to sleep."

Nula shook her head. Of course, this was closer to civilization than any gnoll had a right to be. It must have been her imagination. Still, she swapped the battleaxe by her pillow for her trusty swords. After all, it was a new day, wasn't it? She could go back to slicing and hacking the way she knew best.

With dreams of spurting blood and cowering enemies, Nula drifted back off to sleep.

The sun brought with it the rest of the group, rested and refreshed, into the morning air. As they spied Nula and Oskar breaking down their mini camp, Charlot called out with a smile, "How was your night?"

Nula made a face at the youth, but Oskar replied, "Inexpensive." A minute later, the group was walking into the Shrine. There, Isolde ran up to the nearest priest and spun him around. It was the same man she had sparred with verbally the previous day.

"I hear your records are free!" she exclaimed, as the group glanced around awkwardly. Acolytes and priests paused in their daily chores to watch.

The accosted priest smiled painfully as his eyes narrowed. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, madam."

Isolde did not back down. "Extortion is what I'm talking about." She took a step closer, hand straying to her glaive. "I'm certain your god doesn't look to kindly on extortioners, and I'll bet he's even less fond of extortioners without kneecaps."

The priest's eyes dropped to the impressive weapon, then to the paladin's murderous look, and decided to change his tune. "I'm not sure what you're referring to, but please do come inside! If it's records you need, I'd be more than happy to assist."

The suddenly helpful priest led them to a winding staircase which spiraled down to a low-ceilinged basement. As they spread out across the shelf-filled room, Robyn grabbed the priest's arm. "If we don't learn more about the barrows to the north, the consequences could be fetal. We need more info."

The priest paused midstep. "I'm sorry, did you say… Erm, yes, of course, allow me to help you search. We should have those records on that shelf over there." He nodded to a corner of the room. "I wish I could be more specific, but it has been a while since we've reorganized our records." He shot a glance at Isolde. "Lack of funds."

For the next hour or so, the eight searched, until Idu cried out victoriously and held a dusty scroll aloft. It was what appeared to be an almanac of obituary information for significant figures from centuries ago.

Robyn scanned the document, muttered aloud for the group to hear. "Ogdin Durga, served in the Troll Wars… fought in defense of Waterdeep… There isn't too much about him personally, but it paints him as a brave but capricious soldier. Says here he was a gambler… And he had a faithful servant."

"Probably Sir Loras," Charlot commented, refurling a scroll on haberdashery he had been perusing.

Armed with the knowledge, the gang prepared to leave the basement. As they trudged up the steps, the priest called up to them, "Feel free to come back… during the afternoons."

Little more than an hour later, the group was back before the barrows, waiting along the road and wondering what to do. As they bickered, Idu interrupted, "Archimicarus sees Pel. She's coming up the road. We only have a couple minutes."

In the crunch of procrastinated thought power, the group tossed together a bunch of spare clothes and bedrolls, making a loose approximation of a ghost. Robyn then used her bow to light up a handful of arrows with spectral light, and fashioned the shafts into a frame over which the ghost-puppet was thrown. With a muttered word, Idu waved his hand and a thick fog began to billow through the trees. With a rope from Nula's pack, they hoisted the makeshift ghost up in the branches hanging over the path and retreated to the bushes.

A minute later, Pel came skipping up the road, slowing down as she reached the strangely sudden wall of fog, then gasping as she spied the floating image before her. On cue, Uzza began intoning in Infernal, guttural sounds curling from her lip and sending muffled echoes through the foggy air. The evil voice was met with a high-pitched scream, as, in indignation, Pel cried out, "I thought you were friendly!"

As Pel's traumatized screams diminished in the distance, Robyn peaked out from behind her bush and gave a thumbs up. "Good job, guys!"

The group discussed delving into the barrow while they were in the vicinity, but Oskar was insistent that they continue hunting down the treasure of Trickle Rock Cavern. And so, they hiked back down to Red Larch and beyond to the Latch Path, and the promising location Archimicarus had spotted the day before.

They arrived at a gulley, carved between a pair of hills by a strong stream which seemed to end at a cliff face. As they drew closer, however, it was clear the stream had not been halted by the cliff, and instead had pried apart a tight opening, barely wide enough for the most encumbered of their party to squeeze into.

Uzza led the way, peering into the near-blackness as she reveled in the confined quarters. Growing up on the streets, she had rarely felt safe, but when she crawled into spaces others couldn't even find, she could pretend she had escaped. Years later, she had found other ways to protect herself, but the comfort of pushing away the wide world in a snug corridor or warm crevice remained.

Within the narrow passage, the trickling of the stream grew louder, but there was an odd fluttering sound as well that was difficult to place.

After a couple feet, the passage opened up to a roughly spherical room, where the stream fed into a wide, shallow pool. Several large rocks lay about the quasi-room, and in the middle of the pool, beneath a wide log, a flash of white - a skeleton.

Adequately cautious, the group lingered near the entrance. Charlot murmured a word, and his hand began to glow, shedding a warm light over the darkest corners of the chamber. The light brought into view another crevice, hidden along the back of the wall, into which a smaller stream of water fed by the pool flowed. Intrigued in another space to crawl through, Uzza made her way around the lip of the pool to the maw of the passage.

As she passed one of the larger rocks, it reached out and struck her.

There was a moment of stunned silence, as Uzza cried out, a rocky appendage clutching her arm, while the other large rock in the room seemed to take advantage of the surprise to slide across the rocky floor and slap a part of itself on Nula. Drawn to action, Robyn and Idu attacked the nearer threat, the rock that appeared to be sliding its suddenly malleable body over Nula's arm. Arrow and magical bolt dug deep into the gelatinous core of the being, freeing Nula's arm to make a vicious attack against the viscous foe.

As her blades slid through the ooze, it fell from her arm and began to disintegrate. The sizzling was not just from the dissipating beast, however. Small flecks of oxidized iron began to flake from Nula's blades, and within seconds they were pockmarked with holes that looked like a horde of metal-eating moths had been at them.

While Nula cried out in alarm, Isolde moved to assist Uzza. However, the quickest route took her through the middle of the pool. As she passed the log, it reared up out of the shallow water and a gnarled tongue spat out to whack the paladin on the side of the head. As it moved, the skeleton was more fully revealed, and a soft golden glow glittered along the floor of the pool.

A few seconds later, the mimics let out rumbling deathwails, and the water began to still. Isolde poked at the squishy rock and pliant log to ensure they were dead, and Oskar began scooping handfuls of golden coins from the pool. Idu picked one up and studied it for a long minute, finally announcing that they were not gold pieces, they were pyrite, fools' gold. Oskar asked if he was sure, and then grumbled as he tossed the gold back into the pool.

Charlot drew everyone's attention back to the other exit from the chamber, and Uzza stepped forward, more cautiously this time. As she stepped through the narrow opening in the wall, she called back, "It looks like it begins to slope downward. There's a turn here, if I could just… Ahhh!" Her cry echoed into the chamber, and the group rushed forward. Just around a bend in the passage, the ground sloped down sharply, the seemingly miniscule trickle of water quickening into a slippery slide that Uzza had fallen down.

The group waited with bated breath for a moment, before they heard a distant splash, and Uzza calling back up claiming she was only slightly injured. Exchanging several glances, they stepped into the opening one by one, and descended.

Below, there was a larger room, roughly hewn from the surrounding rock. Rivulets of water rolled down the imperceptibly slanted floor to a trough spanning the middle of the room, where a deeper pool of water agitated slightly. A questionable bridge, battered by ages, crossed the span, and on the other side of the room, the walls seemed more handily crafted, but in worse shape. The fluttering noise from before was even louder, and as they searched for the source, they noticed dozens of holes pockmarking the ceiling. As they glanced up, a chunk of the ceiling fell inches from Oskar with a plopping sound. The room's integrity seemed to be deteriorating, and quickly.

Robyn drew her glowing bow and allowed the blessing to flow into a handful of arrows, pulling one back to her jaw and letting loose. It skittered across the floor on the opposite side of the room, shedding light on various reliefs depicting dwarves (which Oskar noted enthusiastically) and a statue of a stout armored dwarf. Before the statue was a pedestal which held a book, a small bag, and an untarnished blade. In the arrow's light, it was clear the sword had not accumulated any dust, though it looked as though it had not been touched for decades. Along one wall, a rickety wooden door was shut.

The group approached the stone bridge, muttering about how they planned to cross. Somehow, the fluttering in the air felt oppressive, almost threatening. With a start, Robyn noticed that Idu had stepped closer and closer to the trough of water. When she called his name, he didn't turn but simply replied, "Knowledge is power." She followed his stare to the book across the room.

"We need to get over there," she said, and just as the words left her mouth, an errant piece of ceiling fell and clipped Isolde on the side of her forehead. She took a sharp breath, muttering about sharp corners, and reached up to her hairline. Her fingers came away streaking a line of blood down her face.

A moment later, the fluttering noise intensified, and with a screech, half a dozen large bats swooped down from the ceiling. As they began to circle, the water in the trough erupted, as two large schools of fish began to breach the surface, sensing bloodshed.

The next few minutes were filled with endless waves of the bloated bats. The group attempted to leap across the trough, not trusting the bridge, and all but Uzza made it across. As she fell into the trough, a pair of bats latched onto her, only to be knocked loose by the impact of the water. The beasts immediately detached and attempted to paddle out of the water, but the schools of fish darted for them and the bats were instantly devoured. Horrified, the tiefling swam hard for the other side, joining her companions on dry land.

Idu deftly leapt the chasm and dashed for the book, carelessly swatting away the bats circling his head as he clutched the tattered tome to his chest. He was followed by Charlot, who scooped up the bag and directed his spellslinging to the bats around the young boy. Nula was next, picking up the sword, which was lighter than she expected, and turning it immediately upon the swarm surrounding them.

With the book in his arms, Idu appeared to snap out of the strange trance, and seemed surprised to notice the dozen bats now assaulting the party. He patted his own spellbook for comfort and spoke a power word, sending a burst of sound centered around a cluster of bats. Robyn waved the group through the door on the side of the chamber, which Nula had just finished smashing through.

The last person to exit the chamber was Idu, who dove with surprising alacrity through the open portal, turning in midair to cast another shattering spell just above the door. As he fell into Robyn's arms, the ceiling above the door collapsed, shutting in most of the bats. Oskar deftly smashed the flat of his axe against the final bat, which was sucking on Idu's shoulder.

The threat averted for the time being, the group noticed a dwarven skeleton in the corner of the smaller antechamber, adorned with simple armor. There was a simple engraving around the now-ruined door, warning: "Faithless beware: mausoleum of the greats." As Oskar translated, Nula snorted, "Not so great anymore."

They noticed a rope hanging from the ceiling, and as Robyn shot an arrow upwards, a hole in the high roof forty feet up became clear. As the group began to climb up, Charlot opened the tan colored bag they had recovered. Inside, three white balls of fuzz sat. He could swear he heard a purr. "What do you have there?" Robyn asked, reaching in for one. As she pulled it out, it grew a nose, then a paw sprouted from the ball, and a moment later a giant hyena sat before them, head quirked as it gazed at Robyn.

Idu took a second to Identify the bag. "Ah, I've read about these. The orbs will appear each morning, and they will summon an animal companion for whoever removes one. Quite handy." Charlot tucked it away as his turn to climb came.

Above, Idu was paging through the folio he had found. "Magic Missile… Grease… Arcane Lock… and Knock." The boy shrugged. "Not too bad. A nice addition to my collection." In the area above the antechamber, there were the remains of a firepit, long unused. The exit for the cave was covered with a layer of bushes, and after the group returned outside, the entrance appeared to disappear in the wall of the cliff.

They were in the midst of a series of hills, a few minutes from the stream they had started at. They quickly found their way to the Larch Path, and as the sun began to set, they returned to Red Larch.

Deciding to take advantage of the meals at the Swinging Sword Inn this night, the whole party trudged into the building, hailing Caelessa with warm smiles and asking what was in the pot tonight. With a wink at Charlot, the barkeep said she'd heard about the bandits they no longer needed to worry about, and offered a simple supper on the house.

As they dug into the meal, she lingered at their table. She casually mentioned that it was being said there was an evil presence out at Lance Rock, and that she wasn't sure the constable would be up to the challenge. Charlot nodded in agreement. Caelessa turned to Robyn and offered fifty gold pieces if the band would investigate the claims.

Nula and Oskar were more than eager to accept, but Isolde quieted them with a wave and asked how she had come by the information. Caelessa smiled at the paladin openly and stated that Theylorn's children claimed to have met a dwarf, who had warned them to stay away due to plague. No one else had seen the dwarf, but in such a small community, plague was a threat that needed to be taken seriously.

"We happily accept," Robyn said, wiping her mouth and settling back from her bowl, "on the condition that you tell me what this delicious recipe is."

The barkeep easily recited the ingredients and instructions for the roast venison with wild parsnips. Behind Robyn's back, Uzza mouthed "Thank you" to Caelessa.


	5. Chapter 4 - Plague at Lance Rock

Isolde awoke the next morning feeling invigorated. A new awareness had seeped into her mind, like the warmth of spring spreading across frosty moss, and she felt the spark of a new spell, granted to her by the goodness of nature. With a spring in her step, the paladin bounded down the stairs of the Swinging Sword Inn, passed a meager crowd of villagers starting their day with a hot meal, and stepped into the crisp morning air.

Isolde took a deep breath and tasted the scent of the woods around them; the pine sap, fragrant flowers, and near imperceptible whiffs of a rare herb growing somewhere nearby. Birds sang their cheery songs as they darted through the air, and golden beams of sun pierced the trees along the periphery of the surrounding forest.

Glancing around, she decided this spot would do. She stepped off the main street and sat cross-legged in the grass by the Inn. Closing her eyes, she felt her awareness spreading like tendrils of ivy, touching upon the essences of all around her, from the industrious ants beneath her to the chittering squirrels in the tree behind her. As she felt nature coalescing around her, like infinite vines entwined around the single strand of her consciousness, Isolde spoke the words of the spell and sent the magic along that chain of vines.

Immediately, she felt an answering awareness, somewhere down that natural chain; a noble, historied soul brimming with wisdom and patience. Isolde was content to sit, her spiritual self awash in the shared communion, as several minutes passed. Eventually, she heard a might whinny with her physical senses, and opened her eyes. Down the road, emerging from the forest, was a tall, proud warhorse, whose shoulders stood well above her own, of blinding white coat and with garlands of berries and ivy woven intricately through its mane.

The regal warhorse trotted down the road, somehow avoiding kicking up any dirt, and stopped before Isolde, tossing its proud head gently. The paladin beamed and sprang to her feet, approaching the beast slowly and with reverence, just the way she had been taught all those years ago. The horse nuzzled her outstretched hand, staring at her with eyes that seemed infinitely deep. As Isolde began to pat down the warhorse's neck, Loran walked up from a side road, a wide tray of steaming buns perched on her hip.

"And who is this magnificent creature?" the baker asked, cheeks rosy, bangs plastered to her brow with sweat.

Isolde glanced over, smiling at the woman, and replied, "He'll tell me his name later."

Loran looked a little confused, but recovered quickly as she reached the paladin. "I'm glad to have run into you, Isolde. I have something for you." Isolde's eyes snapped to the woman, but she was offering the tray of fresh buns, eyes sparkling hopefully.

Isolde gingerly picked up a bun from the tray, careful not to burn her fingers, and smiled wide. "Thank you, Loran, these look as delicious as ever." As she bit into the vegetarian bun and gave an appreciative moan, Loran blushed.

"Would you like another?" the baker asked, offering the tray once more. Isolde smiled graciously and plucked another steaming bun from the tray, this time offering it on her palm to the mighty warhorse. The beast snuffled at the treat and, quick as a wink, the broad tongue lapped over Isolde's hand, snatching the bun. A moment later, the horse neighed thankfully.

With six buns left on her tray, Loran sauntered up to the Swinging Sword's entrance, then stopped, calling over her shoulder, "Aren't you coming inside?"

Isolde had returned to petting the horse, pressing her forehead against its snout. "I was going to spend some time with my new friend." She glanced over at the baker and saw sad eyes cast downward. Isolde felt a burning on her ears and quickly added, "But I can come inside."

In the rooms above, there was motion. The aroma of Loran's buns had wafted through the air and into Robyn's bedroom. Her eyes snapped open, and a moment later, her covers had been thrown back, she was halfway off the mattress, and she glanced around the room to recover her discarded clothing. An impossibly short amount of time later, the half-elf was heading downstairs.

Below, Isolde was announcing to the rest of the assembled group that she had a new horse, though this news was largely secondary to the arrival of breakfast in the form of Loran's buns. As they munched on the steamy, cheesy meal, Isolde regaled them with a slightly exaggerated account of the ritual that had taken place not ten minutes ago.

As she reached the end, Loran and the innkeeper Caelessa approached the band. Together, they thanked the adventurers for agreeing to look into the claims of plague out at Lance Rock, and gave cursory directions for the area. Having completed their meal, the group collected their gear and headed for the door.

On the way out, Isolde waved at Loran and thanked her once more for the buns, which earned her another blush and a downward glance. As she stepped through the doorway, she spun around and asked, "Loran, would you like me to get you a souvenir?"

Loran and Caelessa exchanged puzzled glances, and the innkeeper replied, "You want to get Loran a souvenir from a plague ridden rock?" Isolde just smiled back at the pair, sweetly and painfully oblivious. "Uh, sure, get her something."

Outside, the group was marveling at the grand warhorse. Isolde stepped up to her steed and wrapped her arms around his neck, which he allowed with a dipping of his regal head. As she pressed her forehead against his snout, each member of the group heard in their heads a proud voice, which declared, "I am called Icthuarrax."

On their journey to Lance Rock, the group came across a stream crossing the road. As they waded through the shallow water, Isolde perked up. From atop Icthuarrax, she had noticed a blur of motion to the left, further up the stream. As she looked closer, she saw a band of gnolls, attempting to quietly approach. Isolde called the alarm and grabbed her glaive.

The gnolls, realizing their ruse had failed, broke into a loping run. There were a pair of crossbowmen, three smaller gnolls wielding spears, and a larger specimen with bloodlust in his eyes and a large, crude sword.

The adventurers sprinted to meet them, Nula leading the charge up the stream bank with Charlot on her heels. Icthuarrux easily outpaced them all, though, and the warhorse raced up to the large gnoll as Isolde swiped down at it with her glance, allowing the horse to dance away safely afterwards. Enraged, the group of gnolls collapsed on the remaining adventurers, and one hit too many struck Nula. With a strangled cry, she fell, clutching her chest as her wounds fed the bubbling stream.

Seconds later, the slaughter was over. Isolde's glaive had felled the large gnoll, and the combination of ranged attacks from the rest of the group picked off most of the other gnolls. The last survivor had turned to flee, but was unable to escape the pounding hoofbeats of Icthuarrux.

Back at the stream, Robyn knelt beside her lieutenant. "Don't you worry," she muttered, reaching into her pack. "We've got just the fix for you." Pulling a pack of salt from her kit, she wafted the bag beneath the unconscious half-orc's nose, agitating the salt when nothing happened. The rest of the group exchanged glances, and Charlot gave a quiet sigh, subtly focusing his magic into a rope that would latch Nula's soul back into her body. With a whispered word, he pointed at the bruised and bleeding body, and Nula gave a start, gasping as she winced in pain.

"It worked!" Robyn exclaimed, managing to seem confident that she had anticipated it. The others rolled their eyes, and a moment later Isolde returned, wiping gnoll blood from her glaive. A minute later, Isolde had placed her hands on Nula's wounds and called upon the natural essence of the woods, pulling life force into her friend. As the two straightened up, Robyn asked, "Shall we continue?"

Within minutes, the formidable form of Lance Rock could be seen rising above the trees. It was still almost an hour, however, before they arrived at the rock. The road stopped at a wooden sign, crudely built and bearing a message: "Come no closer, lest you catch the disfiguring plague which afflicts me."

At the base of the menhir, an opening sloped gently downwards into an expansive cave system. The faint odor of death wafted from within. Just inside the entrance, a humanoid corpse lay on its back, its skin covered in crisscrossed scars and sutures. The group glanced among themselves, then Oskar shrugged and hefted his battleaxe. As he brought it down, however, it hit resistance a few inches from the corpse. The dwarf grunted in surprise, then applied more force, and the blade sunk into flesh.

The corpse began to squirm, and lashed out as Oskar jumped back. The group leapt at the reanimated body, and a lucky shot from Robyn threw the zombie into a rage. In its berserk state, it struck Nula, who crumpled to the floor. Another arrow knocked the loose head from its undead shoulders. Isolde pressed her hands over Nula's forehead, pressing her magic in to stitch up her wounds, and they continued down the passage.

In the next room, a large skeleton was laid out on a boulder, with wicked horns curling from its skull. As Oskar entered the room, a shower of loose rocks rained down on him. Three zombies carrying a now-empty crate jumped down from a ledge, shambling forward.

The group crowded into the room, readying for an attack, when the skeleton jumped down from the boulder, turning to the group, and lowered its horned head to charge straight forward. One zombie was unfortunate enough to be in its path, and was torn apart as the former minotaur slammed into Oskar, knocking him down.

Isolde and Robyn struck one of the zombies, sending it flying, while Uzza's spiritual weapon took care of the last zombie. The rest of the group turned to the skeleton, knocking it apart, but the skeleton shuddered and pulled itself back together. It took another two hits before the bones lay quiet on the cave floor.

Further along, a grisly scene awaited the adventurers. In a room with jagged walls, three undead forms shambled about in a crude approximation of a dance. A goblin corpse was decked in jester's motley; a hobgoblin looked horrendous in a flowery dress and powdered makeup; and a massive bugbear was wearing an actual bear pelt, prancing about.

As the fight began, Nula's blades struck through the hobgoblin's dress to find chainmail waiting beneath, and as the bugbear struck down on Charlot with furry hands, cold steel gauntlets beneath dented his shield. In the span of a minute, all three were returned to death.

It appeared they had gone as deep as the cave system could go. They emerged in a large cavern, forty feet high, lined along the walls with sputtering torches, illuminating the nauseating sight of half a dozen tables, stacked high with human corpses and severed body parts. Baskets overflowing with more body parts sat near the heads of each table. At the far end of the room, four skeletons armed with bows appeared to stand guard at the entrance to another room, while a rickety staircase was winding up the wall.

Between two tables, a hooded figure stood, turned away from the group, holding a bone needle and dark thread. Robyn lifted her bow and fired at the hooded figure, who toppled over, loosely affixed limbs rolling across the floor.

As the decoy fell, a disembodied voice rang out in the cavern. "You dare pit yourself against the lord of Lance Rock? Tremble in fear before me!"

A terror gripped at the hearts of the heroes, but most shook themselves and pushed through it. Uzza and Isolde, however, felt a heavy shadow fall upon their minds. They began glancing at the shadows in the corners of the room, nervously handling their weapons as the sewn together corpses on the tables began to stand.

Even with their fright, the two helped the rest of the group take out the zombies, and a dozen limbs that leapt from the baskets to cling at the adventurers. As the last reanimated body part shuddered and lay still, the voice returned, this time sounding slightly flustered: "Uh, you are clearly capable. If you go without disturbing any more of my work,I will give you an item from my treasury."

Idu stepped forward and cried out, "Prepare to die!"

"Guess not." The voice was now coming from another robed figure who had suddenly appeared near the back of the room. He quickly ran up the stairs to his left, and began mumbling a spell. Five more zombies pulled themselves up from the piles of corpses along the wall and began to walk towards the group while the skeletons began loosing volleys.

While the group met the zombies head on, Idu focused and spoke a word of power. Instantly, a thick sticky substance flew from his outstretched hand and coated the stairs where the necromancer was climbing. The webbing coated the walls and stairs, clinging to the necromancer's clothing.

Oskar darted through the tangle of bodies, closer to the struggling necromancer. He pulled out his handaxe, hefted it, and tossed it through the air, to have it hit with a meaty thwak on the necromancer's side. He muttered a word, and the axe disappeared, only to reappear a moment later in his hand, which he drew back and tossed the axe a second time. The necromancer had just fought free of his robe, however, and the axe missed as he stumbled down the webbed stairs.

In his path, though, was a roiling sphere of fire, and as Idu motioned with his hand, the sphere pressed forward, immolating the necromancer. As his screeching filled the chamber, the remaining zombies stiffened and began to fall, one by one, their stitched together limbs separating.

As the group glanced around the room, Nula was on the floor again. "Stand back," Robyn instructed, pulling out a random assortment of herbs and pepper to wave beneath the half-orc's nose. Charlot rolled his eyes and muttered a spell, bringing Nula back to consciousness.

In the final room, dark tapestries adorned the walls, and a pile of coins and random assorted goods stood in the middle of the room. Rising over the rest was a gruesome pedestal, constructed of countless severed arms sewn together. The highest hand was clutched in a claw, over which a glowing sphere floated, barely the size of a fist. Idu rushed over to the pile, touching the sphere delicately as he focused.

Over the next ten minutes, the group rounded up and tallied the loot, finding stores of food and clothing, some of which wasn't tattered. There was also a long staff, which they set aside for Idu, who straightened up and announced the sphere was a Driftglobe, which would come in handy in the dark caves they seemed to find themselves in often. The staff, he later told them, was a Staff of Birdcalls, which would imitate a variety of birds.

Outside the cave, Icthuarrux neighed daintily as Isolde walked up to him, sending calming thoughts as she asked if he was ok. Minutes later, they were on their way back to Red Larch.

As they walked down the Long Road, several odd items made themselves apparent. As they drew about an hour from the village, billowing smoke could be seen in the skies toward the town. Once they got closer, the brush along the side of the road was trampled flat. As the scent of burning wood filled the air, the group broke into a run. Atop Icthuarrux, Isolde outpaced them all, and nearly fell from the saddle as she was met with the sight of a razed Red Larch.

The next handful of minutes were a blur of confusion as the remaining villagers swarmed around the returning adventurers. Sooty and tear-stained faces all clamoured to be heard, some indignant with anger that their heroes had abandoned them, others hysterical and begging for assistance, while many seemed unable to even speak for the shock of the day.

The story that eventually emerged was that a large pack of gnolls lead by a bloodthirsty leader had invaded the town, burning and pillaging, tearing families apart with their wicked blades and manic howls.

Caelessa and Mini soon came to the front of the group. Mini looked distraught, while a mask of fierce determination covered Caelessa's features. "Pel… They took my Pel…" Mini was mumbling, wild eyes staring from face to face, as if one of them would suddenly change into her granddaughter's.

Caelessa guided Mini to the assembled adventurers. "They came after you left," she explained, looking around at the wreckage. "Looted, killed, tore down what they could." She stared into the heroes' eyes. "And they took Pel and Loran."

Isolde's hands tightened on Icthuarrux's reins. "Tell us where they went."


	6. Chapter 5 - Pursuit

The remainder of the day, the group made themselves useful however they could in beginning the long process of Red Larch's recovery. An air of despondence filled the town; children chased after parents silently, carrying bundles of cloth or wood; shop owners spoke amongst themselves quietly, and the brittle veil of anxiety remained unbroken. Families from the outskirts flooded the streets, coordinating with their less fortunate neighbors to make sure every person had a roof to sleep under that night.

The mangled bodies left in the wake of the gnolls' attack had been moved from the dirt road as the sun began to set; All Faiths' Shrine had been overwhelmed by the sheer number of bodies, and in accordance with older beliefs, vast funeral pyres had been constructed in a nearby abandoned field. Though tears were spilled, the hushed tone of the day extended into the twilight hour as broken families and heart-torn friends mourned those lost.

As the sun fully set, the group prepared to rest for the night, offering to help augment the watch that had been thrown together on the off-chance that some opportunistic gnolls return to the devastated town. Thankfully, the night passed without event, and a bloodred sun rose after a night of restless sleep over the smoldering buildings of Red Larch.

As the party wordlessly gathered their things, life began to seep into the streets of the town. Still stunned by the attack, individuals meandered about the ruins, trying to make sense of the destruction before more level-headed leaders arrived to continue directing the cleanup. After a light breakfast, the seven adventurers set off down the Cairn Road, following the clear path of destruction left in the gnolls' wake.

Isolde swung up on Icthuarrux's saddle, testing the weight of the lance she had received the previous day. A grizzled old half-orc by the name of Ironhead had been in charge of Ironhead Arms before the attack; now, his shop was missing a wall, and most of his equipment lay in piles outside the building. As Isolde and Uzza had been helping him relocate his goods, Isolde had eyed the lance, clearly the most usable item left by the foraging gnolls, and asked how much it was worth to him.

Ironhead had shaken his head and murmured, "Couldn't let it go for less than fifteen gold pieces. Got to get this place back in one piece somehow…"

Uzza had come up from behind him, patting his shoulder amicably. "Come now, surely you would want to help outfit the heroes who are going to bring justice to those terrible beasts."

The dejected half-orc looked like he would protest, but then Caelessa had walked by, glancing meaningfully at the exchange. Ironhead's head sunk to his chest. "Aye. Take it. Bring death to the lot of 'em."

Isolde had to admit, it was a well-made weapon, and from Icthuarrux's back, it was sure to bring swift death to any who stood in her path. _I hope we find those kidnapping beasts soon,_ she thought, gauntleted fingers tightening around the shaft.

They would not, however, come across the gnolls for some time. Though it was impossible to lose the signs of the gnolls' passage, they seemed to be traveling quite quickly. They spent the whole first day marching through fallow grasslands, following the pitted dirt road as it meandered up occasional hills and gawking at the carnage that surrounded them. The surrounding fields appeared to be a warzone, and it was as if a hurricane of fire and blood had passed. The unfortunate homesteads along the Cairn Road were as a whole abandoned and still burning as they passed them.

It wasn't until the middle of the next morning that the group came upon a sign of activity.

Archimicarus had been flying around the party, keeping an eye on the surroundings, when Idu warned the others that he had seen a group of gnolls up ahead. Robyn practically punched the air and said they must be gaining on them.

A few minutes later, a homestead was visible up ahead. It was a modest cottage, barely fifteen feet to a side, attached to an outdoor pen. Within the pen was a grisly sight. A dozen gnolls meandered in the enclosed space, seemingly without greater purpose. Perhaps they had gotten lost from the larger host, or maybe they were a foraging party that decided to spend some extra time among the flock of sheep they had found.

The flock was thoroughly decimated at this point. Gnolls were toying with their food, slaughtering the poor sheep even as they watched. A few more intelligent gnolls were attempting to shepherd the survivors, but the majority of the sheep had been killed and were in the process of being eaten.

As Idu came out of his familiar-trance, the group began to plan their attack. Robyn and Nula prepared to sneak forward ahead of the others to pick off a few gnolls as the fighting began. As they drew closer, however, a particularly perceptive gnoll happened to glance toward the road, and raised a howling alarm. A second later, the small pack had fanned out and began charging towards the group.

Four of the gnolls wielded longbows, and stayed within the pen as they reached for serrated arrows. The other eight brandished crude javelins above their heads as they loped down the lawn of the cottage, hooting and hollering in their cackling voices.

Uzza, Idu, and Charlot each picked the same gnoll at which to fire their magical bolts, and it almost dropped its longbow under the barrage. The rest of the two groups hurtled towards each other, and within seconds Nula, Isolde, and Oskar had each downed a gnoll.

At this point, the opposing bowmen had focused on the imposing figure of Isolde on her warhorse, and with cackling cries they fired several shots at the large beast. Icthuarrux was agile, though, and darted through the hail of arrows to bring Isolde to the nearest clump of gnolls.

One particularly clever gnoll had been hiding behind the small walls of the cottage, taking potshots from around the corner every few seconds, until Uzza focused on him, calling down a sacred flame to smite him from the heavens. Though they couldn't see him, they heard a mangled cry, and then a longbow flopped to the ground from behind the cottage.

At this point, only a pair of the bowmen remained, and they quickly turned tail and began their loping retreat. Unfortunately for them, Icthuarrux was able to easily match them, and Isolde ran down one of the two while Robyn took careful aim and fired an arrow high into the sky, only for it to arc beautifully back down to bury itself in the final gnoll's back.

As they sorted through the bloody field, it was difficult to distinguish the separate bodies of the sheep, so mangled were they, but there was a single human male corpse buried beneath a pile of sheep viscera. Within the small cottage, they recovered a bundle of sheep skin worth salvaging; the remainder of the goods were either soiled, burned, or carried away already.

They traveled for the rest of the day through the devastated lands, continuing to follow the Cairn Road. As sundown approached, the group made camp to the side of the road, along a patch of less burnt field. Few words were spoken as they settled down for a few hours' rest before continuing their pursuit.

The next morning, the group woke to find that Nula's bedroll was empty. Before they could organize a search, the half-orc strode from the nearby treeline. Isolde welcomed her back, saying, "I, too, like to talk to trees in the mornings."

Nula glanced back at the bushes where she had done her business. "Maybe don't talk to that one over there."

The next few days were a blur of hard marching punctuated by scuffles with the laggards of the gnoll march. As time went on, the slower bands of gnolls became more frequent; they were getting closer.

Five days after the encounter at the cottage, the group arrived at what had been Ironford. Its locals had once referred to it as "Womford," but that was before the gnolls had passed through, slaughtering or driving away the entirety of its population. Ironford was smaller than Red Larch, but the devastation that remained was the same. Buildings were still burning, the central well had been smashed in, and every road in the village was filled with the dead.

The group respectfully made their way through the carnage, eyes peeled for any survivors, though they knew they would find none. They were surprised, then, when two loud voices called out, about two blocks from their current position, speaking in Common.

The group ran to the commotion, and as they approached there was a loud shattering noise, followed by a string of curses. They passed a fallen wall to see four people standing over a dropped rack of wine; dark liquid the color of blood seeped into the dusty road.

A man and woman were shouting, blaming each other for the lost wine, when Robyn cleared her throat. "That's not good for the wine." The four strangers broke off their discussion suddenly, turning to face the larger group. They stood defensively, as if they were guarding the wreckage of a tavern they had recovered the wine from.

The woman spoke first, jutting out her chin as she growled, "Keep moving, chumps, we got this side of the street." The man she had been shouting at pulled at her elbow, his eyes traveling from adventurer to adventurer, taking in the quality of their weaponry.

"They look like they can handle themselves."

Robyn took a step forward. "And you look like you can't handle your wine. This is what you should be looking for." She removed a short flagon from her pack, a red glass with painted grapes along the bottle and the word "Orlane" chiseled at the base.

The woman took a step back, motioning for the other three to head back inside, probably to drag out more loot. "There's another tavern on the other side of town. You lot can have that. We don't want no trouble here. Been enough already."

"On that, we agree," Charlot responded, stepping forward. "Have you any news of how far off the gnolls have gotten?"

"Gnolls?" the woman asked, scratching beneath a wide hat. "We hadn't seen anything. Heard the commotion a day or two ago, came to see if we could find any - eh - survivors. See if we could help, right?" She indicated the brutalized corpses that lined the wall of the ruined inn. "Obviously, we were a little late."

Uzza took a step forward, but Robyn held out her hand. "We don't have time for this. We need to be off."

As they turned and continued through the town, the woman called after them, "Oh yeah? That's fine, more for us."

The sign outside of Ironford was miraculously still standing, and marked the point at which the Cairn Road became the Iron Road. Ahead, the path continued along the northern edge of the foothills, where it met a tributary. It was another day's travel to reach the base of the foothills, and just after noon of that day, another homestead could be seen around the next hill.

From this distance, the homestead had obviously not been spared the gnolls' passage, but it appeared more intact than every other civilized area they had come across so far. Further along, they spied activity around the main building, a series of shorter figures busting about. As they approached, the figures disappeared into the main building, but three of them came out as they reached the edge of their fields.

Two halfling men and one woman strode out to meet them, calling out once they got in earshot, "Hullo! Thought you might be some following party of whatever did this, but you haven't the look about you."

The two groups convened, and handshakes were exchanged. "Gnolls," Robyn explained, after the pleasantries were through, "coming from Red Larch, as we are. They took a few villagers, and we intend to bring them home."

The woman, who seemed to speak for the others, looked the adventurers up and down, as if appraising a workhorse. "Lucky thing. We were off on holiday when they must have come through; weren't even planning on taking the whole clan with us originally, though now I'm thankful we did."

"If you don't have news on when they passed, we best be getting along," Robyn explained. "We think we've been catching up to them, and don't need for them to pull ahead again."

"There's a lot to do here," the halfling woman said quickly, as her two family members exchanged glances. "We normally keep to our own, but it will be months before the farm is good as new. I reckon you lot would cut that down immensely." She raised her hands defensively as Robyn began to refuse. "I know you must be on your way, but it's already approaching mid-afternoon, and I reckon you've not had a proper rest in days. If you help us for the rest of the day, we'd be happy to feed and bed you, and we might just have an item or two might assist on your journey."

The group exchanged glances and spoke in whispered tones for a minute while the three halflings waited. Before long, Robyn turned back with a smile. "These gnolls have caused a lot of damage. We would be happy to help ease some of that suffering. They'll not be much further by morning than they are now, and you're right, we've had a rough go of it since Red Larch. We'll take up that offer."

"Splendid," the halfling woman exclaimed, then sharply clapped her hands. "There's lots to do. You three can help with the walls. Does your horse mind a little had labor? He seems more likely to win a prize at a fair than pull a plow."

"He'll work," Isolde guaranteed, patting Icthuarrux's neck as he tossed his head, eye almost rolling back.

The afternoon passed in a frenzy of activity; talents and spells were put to good use as the halfling residence was returned to some semblance of what it must have looked like before the gnolls arrived. Though there was still much to be done by the time the sun set, the halfling matron thanked them heartily, treating them to a wonderful dinner and offering to prepare warm beds from a chest of dozens of fluffy sheets.

In the morning, she approached Robyn before the group left, holding two leather belts gently in her arms. "In my youth, Pa and I did a bit of traveling. These were ours, but I think they'll do you all more good than my young ones. There's a potion left in each, as well. May they treat you well."

The belts, or rather, bandoliers, were clever contraptions, each with two pouches of intricate make that could be resized to fit any manner of useful item. Each currently held a common potion which could be swiftly removed in the heat of combat. Robyn recognized that these heirlooms were quite the gift, and thanked the halfling profusely.

"Just get the beasts what done this," she grunted, turning to look at the homestead, already writhing with activity. "We'll be recovering for a while, but recover we shall. They won't have the last word."

Over the next week, the path of the gnolls stayed strong, and the groups of foragers and slower gnolls became more concentrated. Finally, Idu relayed to the others that Archimicarus had spied a large camp up ahead.

Right before the last of the foothills, there was a valley surrounded on three sides by hills, in which hundreds of gnolls could have fit. The area was off the main road, with only a small trail through the heavy woods by which to reach it. From his vantage point, Archimicarus spied dozens upon dozens of gnolls; there appeared to be temporary housing for just under a hundred gnolls, in addition to the myriad prisoners they had taken.

The adventurers decided to take a day to investigate the area. They split up, sending some people to try and find a better way in than the narrow forest path, while others hid and kept watch for any gnolls coming or going. Any gnoll groups small enough and close enough were dealt with as they passed, but the alarm was not raised, and they needed to assume that their presence went unnoticed.

The following day, they reconvened to pool what they had learned.

There did appear to be a recognizable pattern to the comings and goings of the gnolls; raiding parties would leave the camp and return with pillaged goods and prisoners with some regularity; there was a time a little after noon when there appeared to be the fewest gnolls actually in the camp. The collected prisoners were not kept in any sort of centralized area; instead, each band of gnolls had its own cluster of tents where they stayed. These bands did not appear to be particularly cooperative. There seemed to be a singular figure leading the different groups of gnolls and somehow eliciting their combined efforts, who reigned over some sort of effigy in the middle of the camp.

There was not a better way into the valley than the forest path, which was guarded at all times by a sizeable guard. If the group wanted to get in to the camp, they would need to deal with the guard. Their plan partially formulated, the adventurers decided to wait for the lull in gnolls after noon to strike.

The flind, a larger gnoll with a terrible flail, sat on his haunches, panting noisily in the noon heat. He had watched other packs leave throughout the day, to run through the hills, to chase down sheep, to slaughter man and steal prisoners for the leader. But not him. He was stuck guarding the entrance to the temporary camp, and he wasn't happy about it.

The six gnolls he had been given as underlings were not the weakest he had seen, but he knew of stronger warriors in the tribes that had bequeathed them. Each of them stood in a little clump, gibbering at each other and puffing out their chests, trying to intimidate each other, or impress their new commander. The flind had known of his effect on the younger gnolls for a long time, and while during raids it was useful to fuel the bloodlust of those around you, at other times the attention was rarely desired, and decidedly not gnoll-like. One of the younger gnolls stole a glance at him, and snapped her jaws playfully in his direction. He responded with a sharp crack of his flail, sending the younglings scurrying to the positions they knew they should be keeping.

The flind felt a growl grow at the base of his throat. He would demand a raiding party of his own - soon. Perhaps tomorrow. His thoughts were frozen, though, as the scent of manflesh and horseflesh filled his nose. Looking around, he saw the other gnolls reacting similarly. He barked an order to stay alert, and loped back to the path, coming down from the nearby trees.

Down the dirt path, a huge white horse was barreling towards him, with two riders on its back. They appeared to be humanoid females, but the flind had trouble differentiating between the humanoids' genders - they were all just so hideous. What was more interesting to him was the elaborate bow the second humanoid was leveling at him, and the power with which the arrow flew through the air. That bow would certainly be a weapon that a raid leader would use.

He was only slightly inconvenienced by the arrow hitting his matted fur, and once the horse reared on its hind legs, turned back the way it came, and sprinted away, the flind let out a cackling howl, calling his guardsmen to follow.

Isolde rode Icthuarrux hard down the dirt path. From behind her, Robyn fired the occasional arrow, though she was finding it much harder to fire from horseback than she had expected. A minute of riding brought them to the stream where the other five were waiting in ambush, along with a pair of giant weasels, courtesy of the tan bag of tricks. As Icthuarrux splashed through the stream, the others tightened their grips on weapons, and a moment later the gnolls came into view.

Their leader was a large specimen, sporting chainmail and swinging a three-tailed flail with spiked skulls on its ends. The other half dozen were hooting and waving spears and longbows and wearing studded leather armor. As the great warhorse slowed, the gnolls followed suit, and all at once the ambushers attacked.

Daggers and spells flew through the air at the gnolls, who scrambled and dashed for the attackers. Both Charlot and Uzza focused their powers on the flind, trying to still his raging form with magic, but he shrugged off both attempts, seeming to pant with exertion as the spells washed off him. Robyn jumped down from Icthuarrux and let loose with her bow, striking one of the smaller gnolls as the weasels swarmed another. Nula and Oskar darted into the fray, swiping at the gnolls as they gnashed their teeth, while Idu peppered them with magical bolts.

All of a sudden, an explosion was heard from the direction of the camp. All heads turned to look as smoke began to fill the sky in the distance, but the temporary pause in the fighting was broken as the flind struck out at Nula. Charlot focused on the flind once more, and this time he felt the spell take hold as the flind's limbs hardened as if made of stone. The large gnoll's mouth was stuck open, its tongue lolling from its mouth as its crazed eyes darted around. Sensing weakness, the rest of the adventurers directed their efforts on the paralyzed foe.

Both weasels slipped around other gnolls to tear at the flind, while Robyn and Idu launched their attacks. The lesser gnolls, who had been firing at Icthuarrux to some success, turned and began defending their commander, firing at the giant weasels. Another pair of gnolls darted in the confusion to the warhorse, throwing themselves at him and, with wicked glee, pulling him to the ground. Isolde let out a cry of anguish as the white horse burst into motes of light.

At this point, one of the weasels had been killed, and Robyn shouted for Nula to strike at the flind as she fired her arrow. With a devastating blow, Nula nearly severed an arm, which hung from the flind's torso by mere sinew, held in place by the spell. The flind's eyes were rolling in pain, and a sudden wave of bloodfury passed through the remaining gnolls, which launched a new attack on the adventurers.

Charlot took aim and let loose a final bolt of energy, feeling satisfaction as it burrowed through the flind's chest. No longer alive, the body slackened, and Charlot felt the spell dissipate. A few seconds later, Isolde had slaughtered the remaining gnoll, vengeance for Icthuarrux hot in her eyes, and then the only sound was the babbling of the stream.

In the sky above, Charlot noticed a handful of large shadows, drifting through the smoke, though he was unable to see anything clearly. By now, the sound of conflict was drifting through the air from the camp; something large was happening.

Already injured, the group decided to rest for a short bit while Isolde resummoned Icthuarrux. A dozen minutes later, the proud warhorse galloped up the road, bending to accept Isolde's tearful embrace, and then the group began the wary trek to the camp.

By the time they reached the hollow, the fighting was done. An awful sight greeted the adventurers. It was as if the carnage the gnolls had brought on Red Larch had been visited upon them. The adventurers looked around the scene in shock. One of the hills that surrounded the valley had been blown clear off, by either sorcery or intense power. The destruction in the valley did not appear to have discriminated between gnoll and prisoner; there were human corpses strewn about the gnolls. Here and there, humanoids stumbled, crying pitifully and congregating with other survivors, while in the distance a couple gnolls could be seen dashing madly up the other hills, eager to escape whatever had happened. Charlot had the strangest feeling that they were being watched.

Nula was the first to recover, and as she found her voice, she called for Loran. Almost to her surprise, she heard an answering cry, from off to the side.

They discovered Loran in a crevasse. A wide tree trunk had saved her from the carnage, hiding her from view, but it had then trapped her. With a little effort, she was freed, and she sobbed uncontrollably, clinging to Isolde as the shock passed.

Robyn stepped up to her gently, asking in a quiet voice if Loran knew where Pel was.

"Taken," Loran finally managed, choking back tears. "We were separated when those, those, those terrible orcs attacked."

"Orcs? Orcs attacked the gnolls here?" Nula asked, glancing around. They had not seen a single orc corpse among the dead. Charlot felt the sensation of being watched grow stronger, and he looked back toward the trees. Up ahead, the smoke was thick; he could not make out any of the forms he had seen before.

Loran merely nodded. Finally, she burst, "They took Pel!" and she broke down, falling into Isolde's arms, finally expressing the trauma of the past few weeks.

Robyn brought the other five away from Isolde and Loran, speaking softly once they were a few feet away. "We need to find what happened here. It doesn't make sense for orcs to raid an army of gnolls, and to have not taken any casualties? Why did they take Pel? Could there have been others? We need to find them."

"Robyn," Charlot interrupted urgently, pointing to the nearby trees, where two humanoids had emerged and were walking right for the group. Hands went to weapons, but the two raised their own in universal gesture of no-ill-will, a tall man with grizzled features and a young girl beside him, both armed and clothed to survive in the wilds.

"We might be able to help you with that," rumbled Revain.


	7. Chapter 6 - The Trails Converge

Segments of the following story are taken with permission from the prepared scripts of our Dungeon Master.

Fires burned around the ruined encampment as the two humans walked up to the group. The man observed the wreckage around him as if he had seen all this world had to offer, and was definitely over it. Beside him, the girl seemed an afterthought, though she bore her longbow with steady suredness, and kept a watchful eye on their surroundings.

"What happened here?" Robyn repeated, directing her question at the newcomers.

"We were not a part of the battle," the man responded, staring down at Robyn. "We were busy watching you."

Isolde stepped forward, crossing her arms. "So you didn't help anyone? You know, apathy brings about the end times."

The man grimaced and glanced at his companion, an unseen message passing between the two. He then stepped away from the group, turning to face the shattered hill in the distance.

"Not so fast," Isolde called out, raising a hand and speaking a spell. At once, wild vines erupted from the ground at the man's feet, twirling up his legs. The man paused, turning to raise an eyebrow at her, before stepping through the vines. Icthuarrux had trotted to block his path, lowering her white head to stare steadily into the man's eye.

The man turned back to stare at the paladin. "Get out of my way, so I can find out what happened."

Flustered at how easily he had broken the plant bonds, Isolde gaped at him for a moment before the young girl spoke up, seemingly surprised at herself for talking at all, "Please just let him do his work."

With a gesture, Isolde dispelled the ensorcelled vines. "Next time, my vines will have you," she promised.

"Doubtful," the man muttered as he stalked off.

The girl seemed to realize she had been left alone with people who were not overly fond of herself or her companion. Attempting to rectify this, she stuck her hand out towards Robyn, identifying her as the group's leader. "Sorry we didn't introduce ourselves sooner. My name is Ciri, and my mentor is called Revain." After names had been exchanged, Ciri continued. "We came to this place to investigate the army of gnolls. They aren't supposed to be gathering like this. Revain thought there must be something going on. Only…" She glanced around the countless dead. "We didn't expect anything like this."

"Just to clarify," Isolde said, "my horse died, and you both were just watching?"

Ciri shifted her weight from foot to foot, looking like she'd rather be facing down an army of gnolls than this irate paladin. "We had to be sure you were fighting the gnolls for the right reasons. Revain says there are too many adventurers who prioritize glory or wealth over doing the right thing."

"And how do we know you're doing this for the right reasons?" Charlot asked.

Ciri seemed to be struggling for an answer, so Isolde interrupted, "Maybe they're not vegans."

Ciri shot a look at Isolde, asking, "What's a vegan?"

Robyn stepped forward, cutting through the air with a hand. "There isn't time for this. We need to be helping the survivors." The group set about combing the wreckage, locating survivors by their cries or movement in the otherwise still piles of bodies. Though the dead greatly outnumbered them, there were a handful of survivors, each of them spared by some kind of protection during the attack; one man had been entangled in a tent; a small child's mother had thrown herself over him, shielding him with her body.

As the remaining prisoners were gathered, stories began to align. A band of orcs had appeared, slaughtering huge swathes of gnolls and prisoners alike, but that had not been all. Handfuls of prisoners had been kidnapped yet again, pulled away from the slaughter grounds amid shrieks and dying.

By this time, Revain had returned from his investigation. He gathered the adventurers and Ciri. "It's as we suspected," he began, looking to Ciri. "The damage to the hilltop can only have been done by magical means. It appears that someone - or something - blasted through the hill to make an entrance to the valley. There are tracks leading into the valley, and back out." He turned to Robyn. "Do you have a map of the area?"

The adventurers all exchanged glances. Isolde piped up, "Maps bring about the end times." Revain suppressed an eye roll and turned back to Robyn.

"We mostly use Archimicarus - that's Idu's falcon familiar. He gives us the bird's eye view of wherever we go."

Revain looked thoughtful for a second, then nodded. "That should do fine." He then strode to a group of the survivors, and returned a few seconds later. "No one appears to know much about what's in that direction." He nodded beyond the shattered hill. "From the passage, I could see a band of orcs as they reached the plains below, heading south. We'll need to follow them." With a last nod to Ciri, he departed, walking swiftly to the hill.

The adventurers all looked to Ciri. Oskar finally asked, "Does he often leave people behind?"

Ciri bit her lip, looking in the direction Revain had left and back to the group around her. "He tracks best alone. He'll leave markers for us to follow." She turned to see Robyn squatting over an improvised fire, her cooking pot out and a broth of herbal soup already being stirred. "Um… We should probably leave. Now."

Robyn gave a heavy sigh and glanced to the nearest survivor, waving her over. "Once this comes to a boil, take it off the heat, and you'll be fine." Taking another look at the tear-stained face, she added, "Oh, and, my consolidances."

Ciri opened her mouth as if to speak, but Idu placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It's not worth it."

Above the field of slaughter, the group found the passage through the hillside, with Ciri pointing the way as she noticed Revain's markers. Up close, the damage was even more incredible; it was as if a giant had thrown his fist through the hill, knocking it clear through to the other side. The resulting collapse of the hole had sealed most of the tunnel, but upon closer inspection there was a clear, almost deliberate way through to the other side of the hill.

Unfortunately, the tunnel was barely large enough for Isolde, and Icthuarrux was many times larger. With teary eyes, Isolde took the magnificent horse aside, stroking her long head and murmuring for her to watch after Loran. The great beast tossed her head, whinnying as she trotted back down the hill. After wiping at her eyes, Isolde returned to the group as they picked their way through the rubble.

On the far side of the newly excavated crevasse, there was a small plateau. A series of crude but apparently sturdy ropes and rope bridges lead along a circuitous route from the plateau down to the plains below. The path had pitons and guide ropes in places, but many more showed signs of hasty disassembly. It was clear that Revain had taken the time to reassemble key parts of the path, and the group spotted the ranger as he reached the plains, jumping lithely from the final ledge to the grassy field below.

From this height, the group could spy the Delimber River glistening off to the south, as well as the forests surrounding the hills reaching into the plains. As the group made their careful way down the side of the plateau, Revain continued further, no longer visible. Ciri took a moment as they reached the plains to find a clump of tied together grasses, and nodded in the direction Revain must have tracked.

Eventually, the markers lead them right to the Delimber River, where they discovered Revain, standing still by the banks and looking dumbfounded and more frustrated than usual. "The track ends here. I haven't been able to find whether they went up or downstream."

Nula noticed a set of markings in the mud by the river, long shallow lines that might otherwise have been overlooked. "Those look like beach marks from barges," she said, pointing. "I reckon there were three, four barges beached here for a short time, not too long ago."

For once, Revain looked almost impressed. "Good catch. That would explain how they got so far ahead. Now we just need to figure out where they went." He turned to Idu. "Think your falcon can find anything?"

Idu nodded, closing his eyes as a falcon's screech was heard overhead. A minute later, though, Idu shook his head and opened his eyes. "They must be moving fast. Archimicarus couldn't find them on the river."

"They might have just traveled downriver," Nula suggested. "Current would be working with them."

"We need to know for sure," Revain said, pacing the bank for any other clues he might have missed.

Isolde straightened up from where she had been bending over one of the lines in the mud. "This isn't from around here," she announced triumphantly, holding aloft a twig of pine needles. She tilted her head, recalling the surrounding woodlands. "Nearest forest with pine trees would be… the Misty Forest, to the south of here."

Revain almost smiled. "Guess we're traveling downriver."

As the group began to walk down the riverbank, Isolde called out, "Wait!" Half a minute passed, and then the rest of the group could hear the steady gallop coming from across the plains. Isolde let out a laugh as Icthuarrux neighed, and then the majestic horse was before them, bearing Loran on her back.

"She seemed to want me to ride," Loran explained, clearly disheveled from the wild run. "She took off, and I couldn't do anything but hold on."

Isolde walked up, helping Loran down to her shaky feet, then gave Icthuarrux a warm hug. "Guess she couldn't bear to be without me, and brought you along to look after you. Good girl."

Loran straightened up after a deep breath. "If I'm already here, I want to help get Pel back."

"Come or don't come," Revain growled, staring up at the sun. "The longer we wait, the further those orcs get."

As they began walking, Isolde whispered loudly to Robyn, "I think Revain needs to get a horse. I believe it would improve his disposition."

It was decided that Idu would ride Icthuarrux as they traveled along the Delimber River, borrowing Archimicarus's sight to try and spot any sign of the orcish band. This was only slightly complicated by Icthuarrux's aversion to Idu's pet snake, Abu, and it took a few minutes for Charlot to finally offer to carry the serpent while Idu was riding. (The snake immediately slithered into Charlot's armor, sending shivers down his spine the whole length of the march.)

There was still no sign of the orcs by the time they reached a suitable crossing. The Misty Forest bordered the south of the Delimber River, so they took the opportunity to cross over and continue the march from the southern bank. Not long after that, the group came upon four barges beached further ahead, and Revain was able to pick up the trail once more.

The trail lead them, as expected, into the Misty Forest, where their pace was arrested. Cold tendrils of the eponymous mist trailed along the forest floor, and visibility was greatly hindered. Icthuarrux's coat seemed almost to gleam in the filtered light, and the group huddled around the large horse, lest they find themselves suddenly astray. The only person who seemed unperturbed by the gloom and dank was Revain, who nevertheless stayed much closer to the others as he continued to follow the tracks of the orcs.

Eventually, something broke the muted quiet of the forest. A roar, as if from a savage beast, pierced the air, followed by a string of orcish swearing. Revain signaled for the group to quietly move forward.

They came to a clearing in the ubiquitous trees and found the source of the noise. A pair of owlbears were loudly attacking a group of orcs. Isolde quietly observed that the two appeared to be a mated pair, eliciting a shush from Revain. The ranger turned to the rest of the group, beginning to outline how they could quietly snatch one of the orcs on the periphery and extract the location of the other orcs from him, when Isolde cried out, "For nature!" and galloped past the others, swinging her lance as she raced towards the fray.

"We need one alive!" Revain yelled, teeth clenched in irritation.

The owlbears were fighting side to side, swiping at the orcs as they darted in to poke with spears and swords. There were half a dozen orcs arranged in an arc around the beasts, laughing and taunting as they attacked. They barely noticed as Isolde rode up behind them, swiping at their backs as she passed.

This distraction seemed to be just what the owlbears needed, however, as they ferociously clawed and bit at the turned backs of the orcs, taking half of them down in a frenzy of limbs. The remaining orcs seemed to think better of their initial attack, and turned to run off into the woods.

Ciri stepped from behind a tree and loosed a crossbow bolt at one of the runners, smiling to herself at the thud of its body hitting the forest floor. Nula and Isolde ran after the final two. Barely fifty feet later, Nula had knocked out one orc, and Isolde ran through the final monster, turning to see the owlbears retreating warily. They kept an eye on the strange newcomers until they were well into the wood, at which point they turned tail and loped off between the trees.

A few minutes later, the final orc was tied up and propped against a tree. Revain nodded to Nula, who slapped him awake. As the orc blinked in the dim light, Nula hit him again. "Where are the other orcs?" she bellowed in orcish.

The orc straightened, eyes squinted as he stared up at the half-orc. He spat at her and growled, "Traitor to your kind."

"Do you speak Common?" Revain asked, laying a hand on Nula's shoulder. The orc gave a curt nod.

Nula shook off the hand. "Listen here, pretty boy, you're going to talk. Or else."

The orc gave a guttural laugh, more a croak than anything else. "I do not fear death," he mumbled in Common.

Charlot held up a hand, ghostly light flickering around it. "Let's see how true that is."

Nula nodded. "I wonder how many times you'll die before you give us what we want."

The orc adjusted himself in his bonds, glancing from Charlot to Nula, then to Revain. "What do you want to know?" he asked, voice low.

"Where are the other orcs?" Revain asked, before Nula could respond. The orc seemed to think a moment before responding.

"What if I answer?"

Revain stared into the orc's eyes. "It'll be quick and painless."

The orc nodded, addressing Revain. "East side of the forest."

"How many are there?" Revain asked, hand lightly resting on his sword's pommel.

"Scores," came the reluctant answer.

Revain's hand tightened. "Exact number."

"Scores."

Isolde pushed past Revain. "Can't you count?" She held up a gauntleted hand. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

The orc's expression hardened, and he did not respond.

Revain sighed deeply, then strode forward and sliced neatly beneath the orc's chin. As life seeped out from him, the orc's eyes seemed to cloud over, and then a horrid noise burst forth from his mouth, impossible with such a wound.

Uzza gasped, and the others turned to her. "That was Infernal."

"What did he say?" Robyn asked.

"Be back soon."

It took a few minutes to gather the bodies of the orcs and pile them on a makeshift pyre. Revain had dealt with enough demons to know that leaving corpses around was a surefire way to shoot oneself in the foot.

As acrid smoke climbed and mixed into the forest's misty air, two figures stepped out from the trees. Hands went to weapons, but the elf and wolf did not appear to be tensed for battle. Revain called out, "Who goes there?"

The elf halted, the wolf stopping at the same time. "I am a ranger of the Misty Forest." He gave a slight head bow. "The proper question, is who trespasses?"

Revain held out his hand as Robyn began to step forward. "We are following the trail of a band of orcs who are hiding here. They have kidnapped many and slaughtered more, and we intend to bring justice to them."

The elf seemed to relax at this answer, and he nodded. "We know of the orcs' presence here."

Robyn stepped past Revain, drawing a scowl from him. "Then help us," she said in Elvish.

The forest ranger seemed taken aback for a moment as he considered the half-elf. A moment later, he shook his head, and responded in Common, "The elders will not allow us to risk our forces against such a host."

Charlot scoffed. "Then we'll do it without you."

The elf's eyes narrowed as he focused on the youth. "What makes you think you can handle them alone?"

"We must," Charlot replied simply.

The elf nodded, as if it had been the expected response. He then turned to the growing flame in the middle of the clearing. "Why are you burning bodies in our forest?"

Uzza explained the infernal warning, and Revain explained how corpses that were ash could not be possessed.

The elf nodded, again seemingly satisfied with their responses, and turned to leave. As he passed the nearest tree, he turned back. "Make sure you do not destroy our forest, travelers. We may lack the strength to oppose the fouler visitors here, but we shall exact a price for any negligence."

As the elf left earshot, Revain shook his head. "Damned elves."

The group watched over the pyre as Revain tracked ahead. It was almost an hour past when the ranger ran into the clearing, catching his breath as he pointed the way he had come. "We need to go. Now." He was then off again. Ciri seemed taken aback; in all her time with Revain, she had not seen him this agitated. As the others began complaining that the elf had threatened them over the fire, she cut them short.

"Loran, Idu, and Oskar, you can stay here and watch over the flames, alright? The rest of us, let's follow Revain. He must have found them."

Minutes later, the group had caught up with Revain. He had located the orcish camp; a wall of forest timber stood in a clearing, and within rose many tendrils of smoke. There was a small guard posted at the only entrance, which the group handily dispatched. Within the walls was a sprawling war camp. Visible were tents, cooking pits, and crudely constructed pens, some of which were empty while others housed livestock. Adjacent to a nearby stream were five stakes across from one of the empty pens.

The group stood in the shadow of the wall for a moment, starting to discuss their plan, when Revain straightened up, as if responding to some unheard call, and sprinted toward one of the tents. The others called in whispers after him, but it was no use. Shrugging to themselves, they followed him into one of the larger tents.

Within the tent, piled high in one corner, was the greatest amount of wealth any of the group, save Revain, had ever seen. Coins of copper, silver, gold, even platinum, all twinkling in the torchlight. This amount of gold would have allowed for each person present to live comfortably for the remainder of their lives, and set up their descendents quite handsomely, as well.

But those riches were still dwarfed by the sheer number of magical items carefully stacked on the far side of the tent. Although the adventurers had only come across a handful of magical items in their time together, they were fairly certain the assembled menagerie of oddities were in fact magical - perhaps it was the undefinable aura of majesty, perhaps the slight glint on what should be well-worn components. With so many items of power in one place, it was easy to guess that at least a few powerful artifacts lay in rest among them.

There was a fine cloak that shimmered almost imperceptibly; countless weapons, armor, shields, and general tools for adventuring. Among the rest were an eerie doll, eyes sparkling with intelligence, surrounded by at least four different instruments. Atop a gloriously worked set dwarven plate armor was an impeccably delicate silver diadem inset with sapphires. Whirring and clicking sounds emanated from a copper amulet on a chain necklace.

Laying on the ground by itself was an extraordinary warhammer, emblazoned with runic ropes that seemed to writhe before the adventurers' very eyes. Each person's gaze was drawn to the warhammer within seconds of entering the tent, and after a moment Isolde stepped forward, shrugging to the others as she reached for the smooth, iron bound haft. With a surprised grunt, Isolde stumbled; the hammer seemed attached to the floor. She grinned back at the others sheepishly before redoubling her efforts, gripping the hammer tight with both hands, planting her feet to either side, and pulling. A string of curses later, Isolde gave up; the hammer had not budged in the slightest.

Charlot and Nula were exchanging snickers when the humorous spectacle was interrupted by the violent sound of cracking wood. Revain was bent over to the side, crowbar in hand, prying open a chest. As the lock finally gave, Revain gingerly reached in and removed a large oval of granite. He cradled the stone in his arms and, almost as an afterthought, reached into the chest once more to remove a delicate bolt of cloth.

Revain straightened up and paused, as if in thought. All at once, his face blanched a deathly white. He gravely spoke to the others, "Grab what you can now. We have very little time."

He handed a pouch to Robyn, who exclaimed as the inside opened many times larger than the outer fabric. At the ranger's instruction, they began shoveling as much as they could into the wondrous bag. As Uzza began to fit an impossibly large set of armor into the pouch, Revain stopped her. He grabbed five sets of gear (weapons, armor, and a few of the magical items) and set them off to the side. "They'll need these," was the only explanation he gave.

She couldn't be sure how long it had been. Not too long, by the stars. But long enough. She couldn't remember everything, which was probably a blessing. If she ever made it out of this, she made a point to thank some deity or other for that.

She remembered Melpomene falling, remembered the tears in her eyes at the end of her fall, the scroll fluttering from her fingers in the rush of air. She remembered Nissa viciously defending Pock's fallen form. She remembered Wun Way calling out in desperation. She remembered valiantly fighting on, bound in fiendish chains, shielding her companions as the shaman beared down on her with scorching sorcery.

And she remembered the strangest thing by far from that day; it was not the fake wizard, it was not the accursed altar, no. It was when the devils, wrapped in writhing chains, turned to protect her and her companions from that bloodthirsty she-orc.

"This is not the agreement," one devil had said.

"We are to take them to Guthrum," the other had added.

Yes, that was certainly the strangest thing that day.

Brienne woke up later.

Gravity was not what she remembered, and she quickly learned why. She was bound to, and hanging from, a strong sapling recently plucked from the ground. Slung beneath it, hanging from only hands and feet, she swung like captured game. She slowly passed over the ground, ferried by two orcs, who rested the sapling on their shoulders as they walked. Peering around, she saw each of her companions similarly bound.

And that was how they came to the Misty Forest, bound and gagged, unarmed and unarmored. All their wondrous items confiscated. Although clothed, they each felt naked.

The Misty Forest was properly named; heavy mist coated the forest floor, and seemed to cling to Brienne's clothing as she was carried, leaving her feeling soaked and unpleasant. Slung down near the ground, what she remembered most were ferns and weeds, but she could have sworn she saw something, or perhaps someone, in the canopy of the forest, silently hidden, looking down on her and her companions. She was so exhausted she couldn't call out for help.

Eventually they stopped. They appeared to have taken the group to some sort of camp; and a big one, at that. Brienne couldn't see much of it, though. She was bound upright to a stake near a pen where human slaves were kept like livestock.

Once upright, feeling returned to her hands, feet, and other extremities. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, more of a searing and violent pain. Judging by the muffled cries around her, Brienne's four companions were feeling the same.

They stayed there for a long time. They weren't fed, and were only given enough water to survive. It rained at one point; Brienne remembered, because she felt cold from the downpour, but also because she managed to catch some rainwater in her mouth; after the stagnant water of the previous days, it was delicious.

Brienne had more time than she cared for. This was the first long period she had been without her magical circlet, which had enhanced her mental ability, and losing it was almost as much pain as she physically felt. Almost. The world seemed to drag by, and she felt her mind stuck moving in slow motion, as if entrenched in a quagmire while stars spun overhead. Frantically, with each moment of each day, Brienne tried to think of a way to get out, to free her companions, but without her circlet, it was hopeless.

She could almost feel an answer showing itself to her, waving right in her face, but she could not work out how to solve it. At first, she grew frustrated, her mind unaccustomed to the slowness it had been unburdened from for so long, but soon after she became despondent, and thoughts of failure plagued her too long waking hours.

Then, one morning, she was loosed from her stake, bound, and marched through camp directly to the largest tent.

He wasn't what she remembered. She had only seen a few glimpses back then, and she had been focused on other things. But this orc was not what he had been. He was bigger, and stronger. He emanated a presence of fury and rage. He sneered when he saw her.

Inside the tent Brienne was strapped into a chair. The shaman was there, as well, almost gleeful as she peered down on the defeated fighter. Brienne smelled burning charcoal.

After she came to again, the first thing she felt was pain: white-hot and humiliating. Brienne had been branded.

She was loosed from the chair and escorted out of the tent, across the camp, and given to a guard. She saw her companions standing there, as well, all similarly branded.

Guthrum appeared soon after. He looked over the party with grim satisfaction. As he stood there, someone, no, something, approached him. It stunk of rot. It looked like an orc, a dead orc, with a long tail and pointed horns. When it opened its mouth, it sounded like Common spoken by an insect, filled with clicks and buzzing.

"Guthrum, servant of Baalzebul," it said, "I have returned from the northern hills with your warriors. The spawn on Yeenoghu have been smote down. Baalzebul thanks you for your cooperation and will reward you in Maladomini. I will now continue to serve you as my lord has directed, until the fulfilment of your contract."

"Then it won't be much longer," Guthrum replied stoically.

And now, Brienne was atop a pile of wood and pitch. Bound to a stake, branded, awaiting her hellish fate. She saw her companions. Together, they formed five points along a large circle. At the center of the circle she saw slaves. Some she recognized from before, but others were new. Brienne's eyes fell on a little girl. She was crying.

Guthrum stepped forward and began to speak.

After grabbing what they could, the six rushed after Revain, racing through the forest. Before too long the trees began to thin, and they spied a large crowd of turned backs ahead. Their approach had not gone unnoticed, but somehow the magnitude of the moment delayed any confrontation.

Beyond the crowd were five people,a large human warrior, a half-elf, an aasimar, and two gnomes. They were bound to stakes in a circle around a group of prisoners, kindling and logs stacked at the base of each stake. About a dozen prisoners cowered in the center of the circle, all horrified. Some continued to cry out, pleading with their captors, while others looked resigned to their fate. Inside the group, they spied Pel, crying and clutching the rags of an unknown woman. Before they could do anything, the biggest, nastiest orc any of them had ever seen or could even imagine stepped forward and began to speak.

"Let the sacrifice of these wretched souls fulfill my contract with Baalzebul! Soon we shall all join the eternal battle on the banks of the River Styx!"

A wave of malevolent energy emanated from the orc-corpse lieutenant, and the fuel beneath the five prisoners burst into flames. The fire slowly began to burn through the grass, carving straight lines from each prisoner to the others, and before they've proceeded half the distance it was clear the flames were burning a pentagram into the ritual site. In the center, the prisoners began to wail in fear and rage.

The adventurers gazed on, stupefied by the sheer horror of what they were witnessing, unable to move. Perhaps it was the shock of everything, perhaps some subtle will from a being beyond themselves. Perhaps both. Regardless, the seven onlookers felt rooted in place, watching in horror, willing themselves to do something, anything, but unable to act.

From behind them, the adventurers heard a faint clanging sound, then another, louder this time, followed by an enormous creaking and a monumental crack. A blurred piece of metal whizzed over their heads, straight into the pentagram, headed right for the human warrior. Tension and anxiety swept like a wave over each member of the group, save Revain, who actually smiled.

Right before the projectile slammed into her, storm clouds coalesced instantaneously in the skies above, and thunder echoed across the High Moor. A great lightning bolt crashed down to earth - right on top of the woman.

In the pentagram, Brienne heard a loud voice echo in her head. "My hammer chose you, now show me you're worthy."

Wun Way, Pock, Nissa, and Melpomene heard Guthrum's words, they saw the fire leap to life beneath them, they felt the blistering heat. They didn't want it to end this way, and certainly not this soon. But a feeling of hopelessness washed over them, and they felt like the only thing left to do was wait for the end. A small spark of resistance screamed out in each of their minds, but it was overpowered by lethargy.

This didn't make sense, they were fighters, why weren't they fighting? The four began to panic, but soon even that was suppressed by the overwhelming force of will sweeping over them.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar rang out above them, and Brienne was bathed in blinding light. Their lethargy was washed away. Brienne stepped out of the light, electricity crackling about her, wielding her magnificent hammer. Hope sprang forth within them. As one, they resolved to fight their way out of this.

Or die trying.

As Brienne stepped forward off her pyre, Guthrum reached to his belt and hefted the axe he had taken from her side. In his meaty hands, the Battleaxe of Goblin Slaying looked more a toy than a weapon, but its wicked edge still seemed sharp. To either side of him the demon-possessed corpse and shaman stood, clad in Melpomene's Cloak of Protection and wielding Nissa's Rapier of Life Stealing.

Brienne looked at the three orcs, then turned to face the nearest stake to her own, Pock's. At the same time, the bystanders at the edge of the crowd seemed to have had their spell broken. Revain was already dashing through the assembled crowd of orcs and devils, heading for the closest stake, Melpomene's. As he sliced through her bonds, he gave a curt greeting. "Whoever you are, the egg told me you'd need these." As the ropes fell into the fire, he unloaded the armor the coatl egg had instructed him to bring, along with a dagger and sword.

Despite the madness around them, Melpomene flashed a dazzling smile. "Charmed, I'm sure."

Across the circle, Wun Way felt her optimism returning with Brienne's incredible escape. Suddenly, the world around her began to dim, and a single moonbeam pierced the otherwise cloudy sky to fall on the half-elf. A voice like a laughing lyre breathed into her ear, "Accept the aid of Sune." The bard felt a warmth spreading through her chest, and a second later her bonds lay on the pyre, and as the moonlight faded, it lingered on her hair, where a blood-red rose had suddenly appeared, entwined in a braid that had not been there before. Grinning from ear to ear, Wun Way ran across the burning field, calling, "Revain! Fancy meeting you here!" as she reached the ranger and accepted her gear.

They were joined a second later by Nissa, grumbling about stakes built for "giant folk" but otherwise grinning from ear to ear, especially as Revain revealed her armor and crossbows from under his cloak. "Payback time," she growled, kissing the arm of a crossbow as she surveyed the surrounding orcs and devils, who were starting to react to the amazing turn of events.

The demon inhabiting the orc corpse was the first to respond. With a shout that sounded like nothing earthly, it hefted an icy blue spear and slammed the haft of it into the ground. With a rumble, a wall of ice materialized, breaking the outer ring of the pentagram and separating Melpomene, Wun Way, Revain, and Nissa from the newcomers who were fighting their way through the assembled orcs.

The shaman then lifted her fetish-covered arms and spoke a phrase of power, then hurled a ball of fire over the newly made wall of ice. The ball expanded as it flew, and impacted the ground in the midst of the group of adventurers, sending them diving to the ground and incinerating several of the orcs they had been fighting. The only person unscathed was Isolde, who had rode faster on Icthuarrux's back, and was bearing down on the pentagram as Brienne reached Pock's stake.

"Nice armor," the gnome commented as his friend tore the ropes apart. "Mind if I try it on later?" Brienne glanced down at the chainmail woven from lightning and smiled.

"I don't know if that will work, Pock." The gnome shrugged, rubbing feeling back into his hands and turning at the sound of approaching hoofbeats.

"You there," Isolde called, hefting a suit of gnome-sized armor and a sparkling shield. "These belong to you?"

Pock looked back at Brienne, who nodded before hefting her warhammer and sprinting for the middle of the pentagram. "I think so," Pock called, jumping down from the pyre. "Does the armor have my name written on the inside?"

Isolde paused to read the inscription on the backside of the plate. "Namfoodle Scheppenberen?"

Pock nodded to himself as he reached Icthuarrux's flank, and craned his neck back to see the paladin. "Probably mine, then. Not too many people with that name." He accepted the armor and paused a moment. "Would you mind helping me into it? It's a bit of a hassle, and I think we don't have much time." While the paladin dismounted and began buckling the plate armor to the gnome's frame, Pock raised a hand and spoke an intricate incantantation. A glowing warhammer, not too dissimilar from the one Brienne was now wielding, appeared before a group of approaching orcs and whacked one of them to the ground.

Guthrum had finally roused himself, and was now running into the thick of the minions swarming the group at the icy wall. The great orc let loose a wild battlecry, filled with sentiments of rage and bloodlust, and tossed a spear at Revain even as the orcs around him rallied themselves and hooted in excitement.

Behind the wall, the adventurers had recovered from the fireball, and were now under assault by a pack of orcs and a bearded devil. Charlot threw up his hands as the devil pulled back to strike, and unleashed a spell. The devil's eyes widened as his limbs grew stiff, and within moments he was completely immobilized. Charlot hastily stepped back, nursing a bruised shoulder and glancing about at the rest of the attacking orcs. Uzza called out to him, and strands of golden light arced from the tiefling to her battered allies, rejuvenating them and filling them with hope. The two clerics nodded at each other and focused on the frozen devil, sending necrotic bolts and heavenly infernos to obliterate the fiend.

Meanwhile, Isolde had placed herself between Pock and an approaching band of orcs, headed by another bearded devil. Isolde tried to keep them at bay with her lance, but they marched steadily forward. Suddenly, Isolde heard a quiet "Excuse me" from down below, and as she glanced down she saw the now armored gnome walking through Icthuarrux's legs, head still inches away from her belly, his sparkling shield levitating around him. As Pock advanced to the savage orcs, he raised a hand, and the air around him burst into a frenzy of activity. Spectral images flickered in a sphere around the gnome, startling Isolde before she realized that they were passing through her harmlessly. Not so for the orcs, however, and two of the four fell to the ground immediately, clutching their heads and gibbering. Impressed, the paladin guided Icthuarrux around the remaining orcs as they batted ineffectually at the ghostly figures tormenting them.

Near the ice wall, the orcs had closed in around Wun Way, Revain, and Melpomene. Nissa had slipped through the press of bodies and was now halfway to a nearby hill, at which point she turned and began firing into the crowd of enemies. Taking advantage of this distraction, Wun Way spent a moment in preparation and then flung out her arms, singing a word of power as half a dozen shining darts flew in arcs to burrow through the chests of as many orcs, each of which toppled to the ground. As his forces were thinned, Guthrum let out a furious howl and began to run for the ritual circle. Hearing their master's displeasure, the remaining forces redoubled their efforts, lashing out at the heroes and adventurers.

At this point, Brienne had made her way through the rising flames of the pentagram to reach the prisoners in the center. There, the prisoners were bound hand and foot, with their ropes leading to a stake dug into the ground. Brienne easily ripped the stake up, and motioned for the prisoners to leave the ritual circle. As they began moving, Guthrum reached Brienne, and pointed a finger at one of his underlings, calling out, "Beelzebul compels you." The lesser orc let out a strangled cry as its flesh began to dessicate. Life force burst from its chest, to flow into Guthrum's outstretched hand. Invigorated, he slashed at Brienne with her own battleaxe. At the last second, she raised the warhammer and absorbed part of the blow. As the axehead struck her lightning-crafted armor, though, several fingers of crackling electricity arced out to lick at Guthrum's arm, sending him back a step, what little hair he had standing on end.

As Isolde passed the group of orcs, she glanced to the side and saw Guthrum bearing down on Brienne. Thinking fast, she yanked her oak medallion from its chain around her neck and, taking quick aim, lobbed it into the air. Her shot was true, and as Guthrum recoiled at the shocking feedback, he was struck in the forehead by a curious wooden amulet. More surprised than harmed, he reflexively took another step back, which was probably all for the best, as a moment later the medallion fell to the burning soil and, in the blink of an eye, a proud oak tree sprouted where Guthrum had just stood, breaking a junction point of the pentagram. Isolde let out a triumphant cry as Guthrum raged.

Sensing its master's anger, a nearby orc ran into the pentagram, seemingly unfazed by the growing flames, and dashed at Brienne, brandishing a crude blade. As its edge hit the fighter's brilliant armor, however, the chainmail became tendrils of lightning that incinerated the unlucky orc. Brienne glanced at the charred corpse and grinned, hope rising within her chest. That grin froze, however, as she noticed the fire burning through the trunk of the oak, and a second later, the flames turned an ugly crimson as the ritual was completed.

As the flames finally connected the five points of the pentagram, fire filled the ritual circle. While Guthrum seemed unaffected, Brienne felt searing pain the likes of which she had never experienced before. As her vision returned, she saw a horrific sight. Of the dozen prisoners, half had fallen to the ground, writhing disturbingly as the other six screamed, from pain and fear and horror. The corpses, consumed by hellfire, were not a pretty sight, and the remaining survivors stumbled with great effort away from the bubbling, bloating bodies. Brienne's heart caught in her throat as she scanned the dead, but the little girl she had noticed was being carried by one of the other prisoners, crying as she batted at her smoldering smock. Relief washing over her, the warrior turned to the cackling shaman, who was practically dancing with glee as the hellfire rose higher into the night.

As the hellfire erupted in the clearing, part of the icy wall sloshed away as harmless water which sizzled and turned to steam immediately. The steamy air concealed the fighting as Revain pulled his sword free from the corpse of a strangely barbed devil, and the ranger turned to face the possessed corpse. Though its limbs seemed only connected by a few strands of sinew and sorcery, it was fast, and as Revain tried to parry, the frozen spear cut a shallow wound across his arm. The burning cold that followed left Revain reeling, and he felt his movements slow as the world around him blur. He shook his head and batted away another attack, glancing at his allies.

He was just in time to see Wun Way fall to the last of the bearded devils; the bard felt the caustic burning of its poisoned tentacles as she slipped from consciousness, dozens of shallow cuts painting her torso red to match her hair. As the devil roared to the sky in triumph, Melpomene slashed at its exposed throat, sending its head toppling to the ground. Spying her friend on the ground, Nissa called out to the adventurers who were cleaning up the remaining orcs. "Can one of you heal? We have a woman down over here!" Uzza began running.

The prisoners finally broke free from the inferno and threw themselves at a group of bushes nearby, hiding inside as the battle continued. Seeing them run to safety, Brienne began pushing through the heat to the shaman who was now focusing on Revain. A grey aura cloaked her gnarled hand as she made intricate gestures, and a moment later, the ranger disappeared in a quirk of light. Seeing this, Brienne felt hot anger flowing into her. The aura remained around the shaman's hand, and her eyes were partially closed as if focusing on keeping Revain wherever she had sent him. Brienne intended to make it harder to keep that up.

As she began running to the orc, a thrill ran up her arms. The warhammer seemed to shiver in anticipation, and Brienne tried to think of the last time she had gone this long in a fight without hitting something. "Mjolnir is impatient." The unbidden thought came into her head, and she recognized the voice from before. In spite of the dead and destruction around her, in spite of the lives that hung in the balance, in spite of the demonic forces against which she fought, Brienne smiled. This was what she was meant to be.

With a mighty roar, she hefted Mjolnir with both hands and lobbed the warhammer at the shaman. With unnatural balance, the hammer spun, striking the shaman just at the right point in its rotation, hitting with a metallic CLANG that echoed in the clearing. The shaman faltered for a moment, the aura around its hand weakening. As if she had been doing this her whole life, Brienne felt the tug of Mjolnir, and pulled on empty air. As she closed her fist, the warhammer materialized in her grasp. By this time, she had reached the shaman, and with an arcing two-handed swing knocked the shaman from her feet, sending her bodily through the air. As she hit the dirt, the aura faded, and Brienne saw Revain reappear where he had been a minute ago from the corner of her eye, disheveled but in general still on guard.

Finally recovered from having a tree thrown at him, Guthrum stalked through the harmless hellfire to where Brienne stood over his shaman. "Not so fast," he growled, unleashing a flurry of blows at the shining fighter. Brienne raised Mjolnir, wishing she had her shield, and deflected the blows she could, but still taking several heavy hits. With each blow, bolts of lightning connected the pair, and electricity crackled along the lengths of the stolen battleaxe.

As the monstrous orc's assault let up, Brienne spat out some blood and tightened her grip on the wondrous warhammer. "I can do this all day."

Elsewhere on the battlefield, Nula struck the final blow on the last remaining orc, knocking him over onto a pile of his fallen comrades. Behind her, Uzza rounded the corner of the icy wall and darted for Wun Way's fallen form, pressing her hands to the bard's bloody temples and chanting under her breath, feeling her divine powers seep into the unconscious half-elf. Wun Way's breathing stabilized, and she felt the infernal burning cease as her eyes shot open. The first thing she saw was the tiefling's face, lit on one side by hellfire, the icy blue wall behind her. "Pretty," Wun Way mumbled, before shaking herself and jumping to her feet. She glanced around and reached inside for her magic, sending a wave of healing to dance between her nearby allies before tossing a dagger at the horned corpse attacking Revain.

Nissa darted past the demonic corpse and dove behind a boulder, peeking around to fire a series of bolts at the shaman as she got to her feet. The other adventurers turned from the corpses to converge on the remaining three orcs and orc-corpse.

The corpse glanced about, displeasure clear on its rotting face, and barked a phrase in a guttural language. Guthrum roared back, "I am in command here!" but the corpse was already running back to where he and the shaman flanked Brienne. As the demon approached, the shaman pulled out a bloodstained scroll that looked familiar to Brienne. The orc began chanting, and Guthrum let out a howl of irritation as, in a flash of crimson, he, the shaman, and the possessed corpse disappeared.

Melpomene wiped her sword on a fallen orc's tunic. "Of course, now the scroll works," she grumbled.

The air hung heavy as the assembled group stood, tensed, wanting to believe it was over, but not trusting the world to be so kind. After a few seconds, though, Robyn ran across the clearing, calling out Pel's name as she rifled through the wrong brush, trying to find the survivors.

As the adventurers and heroes began to formally introduce themselves, clumps and pairs formed. Isolde trotted up to Nissa and peered down at her diminutive form, asking if she was also against the end times. Nula let out a low whistle as she walked over to Pock, asking if his captain was normally this bad ass, to which Pock simply replied, "Always."

A moment of panic occurred as the bushes beyond the clearing rustled, but then Idu, Oskar, and Loran stepped through, bringing about a loud welcome from the adventurers. A few seconds into Nula's explanation of what happened, Oskar roared, "I missed it?!"

Brienne felt her heartbeat returning to normal levels, and in her hands Mjolnir seemed to almost purr with satisfaction. Slowly at first, her lightning-wrought chainmail began to unravel, individual chains separating into errant sparks that flew off into the air, then all at once the remaining electricity jumped straight up into the sky like a reverse lightning bolt. Thought she couldn't be sure, she thought she heard laughter echoing in the clouds. Perhaps it was only thunder.


End file.
